


Ghosts

by nyghtmare



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past physical abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, fluff sprinkled in, humor bits, more serious fic!, past mental abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10003487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyghtmare/pseuds/nyghtmare
Summary: Just when things start to go well in Wrench's life, ghosts from his past start to creep in. Can Marcus keep him from drowning or is Wrench's past too much for him?





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t easy for people to reinvent their lives yet it was a popular thought of the generation; the desire to pack your bags and just disappear, move somewhere else and start a new life, completely letting go of your past. To most people that was simply a dream, most had too much baggage to truly leave behind and so they’d reinvent themselves on the internet instead. There they could create new personas for themselves. They could be anyone and anything they desired. Very few people managed to reinvent themselves in the real world, but Wrench had.

Wrench had had a lot to run from; an epically shitty past and a family who had never been family to him. The FBI would never have let him go had Blume not been involved, he’d done too much bad in his short life. So, Wrench had fled and changed himself. He became The Wrench, but just like people who hid behind the internet, he hid behind his mask. It worked. He liked the person he was, but when the mask came off… well the mask _didn’t_ come off. At least not if he could help it.

Wrench was fun, at least he thought so. Drugs, alcohol, danger, and explosives, anything to get his adrenaline pumping, to feel alive. Wrench was confident and smart, definitely not shy in the least. And he was happy because he didn’t rely on others to make him happy. He didn’t need feelings. The problem was, after years of keeping people out, one person had managed to break the protective shield around him.

Marcus fucking Holloway.

Wrench never saw it coming. He got crushes before, sure, but nothing really ever became of them. He could blame the mask all he wanted, but he knew it was really him pushing people away. He still didn’t know how Marcus got in. It had been subtle at first, Wrench hadn’t even noticed it happening.

They’d become friends fast. Marcus had never questioned him, never criticised his mask. Marcus had accepted him completely and Wrench enjoyed the hipster’s company more than anyone’s. His feelings had grown before he knew what was happening. He hadn’t even known what the feelings were until the FBI had captured him. When they had tried to make him spill on Marcus, he knew he would never betray his friend, but when the FBI released him and he heard Marcus vowing to get back his mask, the anger and determination in Marcus’s voice… No one had ever cared for Wrench like that before. The hipster didn’t even flinch when he saw Wrench’s face, his real face.

Wrench slipped his hand into his hood, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. For once he was silent, lost in his own thoughts as he glanced over at Marcus from across the restaurant. The hipster nerd had managed to crawl under his skin and Wrench didn’t know how to deal with it. So, what did people who didn’t know how to deal with their emotions do? Drink, naturally. There was no way he would tell Marcus and lose his best friend.

“Wrench, don’t you think you should slow down?” Sitara asked.

“Why?” the anarchist asked, lifting the leather part of his mask just enough to chug his seventh beer in the… how long had it been? Wrench couldn’t remember, but if Sitara was nagging, it couldn’t have been that long. He slammed the empty bottle down on the bar and ordered another.

“Because you’ve been drinking them like your life depends on it and I won’t carry your drunken ass when you can’t walk.”

“My life does depend on it!” Wrench whined.

“Yeah, leave the man alone, Si,” Marcus said, joining them. He grinned as he thumped Wrench on the back affectionately. “I’ll babysit him!” He reached over and stole Wrench’s beer.

“Hey hey hey!” Wrench said, trying to reach for the bottle, but he slumped against Marcus and started laughing. He slapped the bar. “Another round for me and my hipster nerd!”

Marcus snorted and chugged the beer. “Still not a hipster!”

“But you don’t deny being a nerd?” Two carats flashed on Wrench’s mask as he rest his head on Marcus’s shoulder.

“That would be a lie! Oh, hey man, how is it going with that girl from 10 Donut?”

“No where!” Wrench said in his sing-song voice, it was oddly cheery for the occasion, but then again Wrench was drunk. “She’s too good for me!”

“I thought she dug the mask,” Marcus added as he sat down at the bar, moving slow enough that Wrench went with him. “And you are a great guy. If someone doesn’t like you, they aren’t worth your time, man.”

“Ignore him, Marcus! Wrench is half closeted, he swears he’s only gay when he’s drunk!” Sitara said, laughing.

“Shhh-chi-chi! Don’t tell him that!” the anarchist drunkenly slurred. “I’m not gay, I just occasionally enjoy sex with dudes. What’s wrong with that?!”

Marcus lifted his eyebrows in amusement. “Is that so?”

“You haven’t noticed? Seriously Marcus, are you blind?” Sitara asked. “Wait, nevermind, you are both blind.”

“What?” Marcus asked.

“You two should get a room!” Sitara said, hopping off the bar stool. “But thank you for the beers, Wrench!” She grinned, snatching the two new bottles before disappearing back to their table.

“Hey!” Wrench shouted, spinning too fast on the bar stool that he drunkenly fell off. Marcus caught him and Wrench broke down into laughter again. “Shots?”

“I’ve got something better. Let’s get out of here,” Marcus said with a grin. He stood up.

“Oh? What is it? What is it!” Wrench said, throwing his arm around the hipster as question marks flashed on the LED screen.

“Remember that shit Ray gave us at Swelter Skelter?”

Two capital O’s were flashing at Marcus with alternating exclamation marks. “I love you, M. No seriously man, I fucking love you. Take me home!”

Marcus snorted. “You really are hammered. Let’s get out of here.” He turned to help the anarchist out of the restaurant when he heard the other’s phone go off. “Are you going to answer that?”

“Nope, let’s go!”

 

***

 

Wrench groaned as he was stirred from his sleep by a bright light that had rudely assaulted his eyes. Where the hell was he and more importantly where the hell was his mask to save him from the rude light? He rolled over, attempting to evade the light, but he hadn’t opened his eyes and missed the edge of the bed. He crashed to the floor with a dull thud, the breath knocked from his lungs as he landed on his back.

“Wrench?” a groggy voice asked from the bed.

Wrench recognized it as Marcus instantly and he scrambled to get his mask. He found it sitting on the bedside table and he hastily shoved it onto his face. “Marcus?”

Wrench liked to party. He liked his beer and he liked his drugs, granted he stayed away from harder substances. Still, Marcus… Marcus was always at his side through all of it. Marcus never complained or forced Wrench to stop. Wrench was starting to feel guilty, he was going to pull Marcus down with him in his own sinking ship, but he was selfish. He needed Marcus more than he’d ever admit.

Marcus was kinder to him than anyone had ever been. Sure, the Dedsec members had become his family, but Marcus was different, he was more. e waWMarcus had crawled his way into the cavity Wrench called a heart, but he’d never tell the hipster that. Wrench was a mess and Marcus wouldn’t fall for someone like him anyway.

“Wrench?” Marcus repeated, crawling to the edge of the bed so he could peer down at his fallen friend.

“What happened last night?” Wrench asked, groaning. He showed two @ symbols on his mask.

Marcus laughed, rubbing his face. “A good time if this hangover indicates anything. I distinctly remember you whining about how lonely the couch was so you passed out on the bed. Oh, and you somehow lost your pants along the way.”

“Fuck you!” Wrench said, but he laughed despite his face heating up beneath his mask. Drunk him got further than sober him.

“Hey, you already tried!”

“I did what?!” Exclamation marks flashed on Wrench’s face. He sat up fast.

Marcus chuckled and sat up, rubbing his temples. “Kidding. Breakfast?” He stretched as he stood and Wrench watched as the hipster’s shirt lifted enough to expose a line of skin.

“Uh shower?” Wrench said, pulling himself up to his feet slowly.

“Help yourself. I’ll get us coffee,” Marcus replied, he nodded towards the door to the bathroom. “Bathrooms there, I’ll give you privacy. And find where you left your pants!” He grinned as he left the room.

“You mean you don’t want to shower with me?!” Wrench said with a fake gasp. “Save water and all that hipster shit.”

Marcus chuckled and threw a pillow at Wrench. “How is that hipster shit?”

The anarchist flashed two carats, catching the pillow. “I don’t know what you hipsters do!”

The hipster shook his head, but he was grinning as he walked passed Wrench. “You’ll never drop the hipster thing will you!”

“Nope!” Wrench sighed once his friend had left the room. He lifted a hand to remove his mask. He hated the feelings he had. They could lift him up and send him crashing down all in the same moment. What was the point of having a crush? It would never go anywhere, but Wrench was a masochist and he was addicted to the pain of being around Marcus.  

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the mask in his hands. He knew he was a peculiar person. He covered up who he once was under an electronic mask and riveted clothes. He’d made himself into a new person, changing who he was. He strived to put his past behind him, but the problem was, the past always had a way of catching up to him. His mask was a crutch and without it he was nothing. Just another angry kid too shy to make a difference to anyone. If Marcus liked him it was only the masked him. He was stupid. Who fell for their best friend? Feelings had never gotten him anywhere. That was why he had his electronics, they’d never hurt him. And more importantly he couldn’t hurt them.

Suddenly his phone went off, a loud, screeching wail of punk rock came from the bedside table where his phone lay and it instantly snapped him out of his thoughts. He scowled as he picked the phone up. It had been ringing a lot lately the same unknown number. He refused the call and stood up. He wasn’t answering a call from some unknown number that was most likely a telemarketer.

He gently tossed his phone and mask onto the bed and headed into the bathroom. He was done feeling sorry for himself and it was time to start the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours later, both men had finally left Marcus’s apartment only to drag their hung-over bodies to a nearby coffee shop for much needed caffeine. Wrench had to admit he felt much better after the shower, but he still felt the effects of too much alcohol taking its toll on his body.

“I was beginning to think you’d moved into my shower,” Marcus said, grinning as he headed into the coffee shop, Wrench following directly behind him.

“Is that an offer? I think I just might.” The anarchist moved behind Marcus in line, stifling a yawn beneath his mask. “Why can’t I get back in your bed?”

“I think Sitara might come searching for us if we are any later. Wouldn’t want her to find you pants-less in my bed, would you?” Marcus replied, flashing Wrench a grin. He turned to the barista and ordered coffee for the both of them.

“You know you liked it,” Wrench said, carats for eyes. He turned, leaning his back against the counter.

The barista was young and pretty with olive skin and raven hair that fell to her slender shoulders in thick waves. Her eyes were round and green, staring brightly at Marcus. She smiled at the hipster, holding his gaze. “Anything else I can do for you, handsome?” she asked and Wrench rolled his eyes as a bolt of jealousy hit him.

Surely Marcus wouldn’t fall for the cheesy flirting, right? Wrong.

Marcus turned up the charm, flashing her his winning smile. “You could give me your number,” he said, grinning at her.

Annoyed, Wrench couldn’t be more relieved when their coffees arrived. He turned to grab his a little too hastily and knocked them both over narrowly missing the barista. He cursed loudly as the scalding liquid spread across the counter.

Of course, the barista, whose name he was refusing to recall, apologised though it was clearly not her fault. She instantly called for two new coffees while smiling at Marcus the whole time she cleaned the mess.

It only annoyed Wrench more. His good mood was quickly falling as the two flirted. He was jealous and it wasn’t a feeling he liked. He took the coffee offered to him and turned away as the barista scrawled her number on Marcus’s cup. He slipped outside to wait for the hipster.

Marcus joined moments later. “Hey man, are you alright?”

“Fine,” Wrench lied. “We better head in.”

 

***

 

“Took you boys long enough,” Sitara said as Marcus and Wrench finally made their way into the hackerspace well past noon.

Wrench shot her two equal signs blinking on his mask. “Marcus owed me coffee.”

Marcus snorted. “By your logic, I always owe you coffee,” he said with a chuckle. He never minded.

“Yup,” Wrench replied, displaying two carats on his mask.

Marcus patted him on the back as he moved further into the space. “You’re lucky I like you!” He grinned at the anarchist, popping his earbuds in and retreating to the couch.

Less than three hearts displayed briefly, but they were replaced by the default X’s seconds later. He started to move towards his bench, but Sitara stopped him.

“Come with me for a second,” she said, already leading him up the stairs and out into the shop where they wouldn’t be overheard by the others downstairs.

“What did I do?” There were question marks blinking worriedly on the mask.

“Nothing, I’ve just been watching you. Does he know?” Sitara asked.

“Does who know what? Why are you watching me?” This time there were two @ symbols.

“Does Marcus know that you like him.”

Two O’s appeared, one lower and one upper case. “I what?!” his synthesized voice hit a higher octave.

“Oh knock it off, it’s so obvious,” Sitara said, smiling softly. “Our little Wrench has a crush.”

Wrench glared at her with two angry slashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Wrench, come on. Admit it!”

“So what if I do?” His mask went blank. “Who’d like a guy like me anyway? It’s stupid and unimportant to have crushes on straight men. So just fucking forget it.” Wrench pulled away and headed out. “I’ll be in my garage, if you need me, don’t.”

“Wrench wait!” But it was no use, the anarchist had already exited the shop so Sitara sighed and went back into the hackerspace alone.

“Did you send Wrench off on a project?” Marcus inquired after Sitara returned on her own.

“No, I pissed him off,” she replied. “He can be such a child sometimes.” She sighed.

The hipster lifted an eyebrow. “What happened?”

Sitara shrugged. “Nothing, but he ran off to his garage.”

“I’ll go figure out what his problem is.”

“Don’t. he wants to be left alone.”

Marcus wasn’t listening, he was already headed for the stairs when Sitara grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “What?”

“You really have no idea, do you?” she asked. Searching Marcus’s face for any sign of a reaction, but all she got was a quizzical look and she sighed. “Just think about why Wrench is so willing to go out of his way to do anything for you.”

“Because we’re friends…? I’d do the same thing for him,” Marcus replied.

Sitara shook her head and pulled away. “I’m sure you’re the only one who can end what is bothering him.”

Marcus had a puzzled look on his face as he watched her pull away. He was frowning as he ran up the stairs, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He was more concerned about Wrench. The anarchist was prone to angry outbursts, but it seemed odd when he’d been in a good mood that morning.

 

***

 

Wrench let out a cry of frustration and swiped his arm across his work space, knocking the tools and toasters astray. He grabbed one and whipped it across the room, too angry to pay attention to what he was doing.

He’d been so distracted lately he hadn’t been able to get any work done. All he could think about was Marcus and that stupid fluttery feeling in his chest at the thought of seeing the hipster again. He hated feelings, he’d never been able to properly figure them out and he certainly didn’t know how to deal with these kinds of feelings.

He knew how to get angry, he knew that well.

“FUCK,” he shouted, wondering why he couldn’t just be normal. Why he had to fall for his best friend and why did Sitara have to bring it up! “Fuck, fuck, fucking shit FUCK!”

He pulled his sledgehammer out and slammed it down repeatedly on the only remaining toaster on his work bench. This is why he drank, he didn’t like the thoughts he had when he was sober. And now Sitara somehow knew.

Suddenly he caught himself in the mirror and he froze, staring back at the reflection he saw. He dropped the sledgehammer. The person he was trying to hide beneath the mask was beginning to surface. He couldn’t stand the reflection he saw even with his mask on. He’d been running from himself. What was wrong with him? How did he get so fucked up? Things were better when he had no feelings.

“Yo, have a party in here without me?”

“Go away,” Wrench said, not needing to look up to know Marcus had snuck in. He didn’t care to know how much of that Marcus had just saw. And again he found himself angry that he cared so much what someone else thought. The anger bubbling up inside him, blocking out his rational thought.

Marcus scowled. “Wrench what’s up, man?”

Wrench’s fist had gone straight through the glass, sending the shards crashing to the floor. He stumbled back until his back hit the wall and he slid down it until he was sitting with his knees bent up. His eyes on the blood now seeping from various cuts on his hand and arm.

“Wrench!” Marcus rushed to Wrench’s side. He was mindful of the glass as he knelt in front of the anarchist. He took Wrench’s wrist gently in his hand, but the other man grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Wrench said, pulling his arm back. He let his head fall back against the cement wall with a dull thud.

Marcus wasn’t listening. He got to his feet and dug through Wrench’s stuff, knowing the engineer had to have a first aid kit somewhere. Once he’d found the buried kit, he brought it back to Wrench with a bottle of water. “Sit still.”

Wrench wasn’t even listening and his mask was blank. He looked away. The anger had fallen away with the glass.

The hipster uncapped the water before gently taking Wrench’s wrist. He held the other’s arm out and poured the liquid slowly over the wounds, cleaning the blood off so he could check for any remaining glass. “This is going to hurt, man.”

Wrench didn’t fight him again, didn’t even acknowledge Marcus had spoken and Marcus was frowning, he didn’t know what could make the talkative Wrench suddenly clam up.

When Wrench didn’t protest, Marcus pulled out the rubbing alcohol. He poured it generously over the wounds. He heard, the other’s breath hitch as the alcohol burned away any infection, but Wrench still didn’t protest. He pulled out a gauze wrap and covered the worse of the cuts before releasing the anarchist’s arm. In his distraction, he hadn’t even notice Wrench had removed his mask.

“Why?” the anarchist asked softly, his face turned away from Marcus. His mask was in his other hand which rested on the ground.

“What?” Marcus asked, looking quizzically at Wrench.

“Why do you care?”

Marcus scowled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I am not worth it.” Wrench looked at Marcus. His eyes were heavily ringed and looked exhausted like he hadn’t slept in a month. “I’m not a good person and you deserve a better friend than a piece of shit that can’t even function without a fucking mask.” He looked away again.

Marcus took his chin gently in his hand and turned Wrench to face him. “You are none of those things, Wrench. You are much better than you realize. Where is this coming from?”

But Wrench wasn’t hearing it. He pulled away and stood up so fast, he knocked Marcus over. He crammed his mask on fast. “No.”

Marcus got up, dusting himself off. “What the hell, Wrench.”

“Fuck you, Marcus,” he snapped, knowing he was out of line. He had no reason to be mad at the other man, but Wrench didn’t deserve Marcus’s kindness, at least he didn’t think he did so he tried doing what he did best. Push people away. “Just get the fuck out of my garage.”

“No,” Marcus said stubbornly and Wrench shoved him, but Marcus wasn’t having it. He pinned Wrench against the wall. “Wrench, what is wrong? I am not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“Let me go.”

Marcus pulled the other’s mask off unexpectedly and held it away from Wrench who tried to snatch it back. He kept the other man pinned against the wall with his arm across Wrench’s chest. “Where is all this coming from? I am not going anywhere, Wrench. No where.”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“Because you’re my best friend, man. You put yourself through so much fucking torture that you don’t deserve and you think no one notices. Stop trying to push me away and let me help you. Let me help you shoulder your burden,” Marcus replied, looking into Wrench’s eyes.

The fight died in Wrench and he slumped back against the wall, forcing Marcus to support him. He adverted his gaze. “I don’t understand why you want to waste your time on me,” he said softly. “I don’t want to ruin your life too.”

Marcus pulled his friend into a hug, expecting the anarchist to fight him, but all Wrench did was tense up. “Wrench, I know there are things you hide and you want to keep them hidden. I understand that. Just know that I am here no matter what, alright?”

“I’m fucked up, M.” The anarchist pulled back from Marcus’s grip and looked into the hipster’s eyes for a moment before his gaze turned away, still uncomfortable without his mask. He wanted to kiss Marcus just then. He even found himself leaning in slightly just as his phone went off, the screeching sound snapping him back to his senses. “FUCKING PHONE!” He flew back away from Marcus and tugged the offending object out of his pocket before vehemently stabbing the reject button with his thumb.

“Who keeps trying to call?”

“Telemarketers, they keep incessantly calling me. Maybe we should go to war with them next. I don’t know how they are getting past the blocks on my phone though.” Wrench was scowling as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Maybe it’s important.”

“If it was, they wouldn’t hide their number.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Marcus leaned back against Wrench’s work table.

The anarchist sighed, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “Everyone… everyone who has cared about me… You shouldn’t be around me.”

“Stop worrying about me. Let’s go back to my place, you can rest up, okay?”

“Okay,” Wrench said quietly. “Can I have my mask back?”

The hipster handed the mask back to its owner. “I won’t force you to tell me what’s wrong. I want you to decide if you want to let me in when you are ready. Just don’t push me out. I’m here for you, alright?”

Wrench was silent as he put his mask back on, it calibrated for a second and then went blank. He didn’t know how to deal with the swell of emotion that bubbled inside of him. He wasn’t used to people caring for him. He was used to people using him and discarding him when they got whatever it was they needed. He didn’t want Marcus leaving him too. “Someday, maybe.”

“Until then, Siska marathon and takeout?” Marcus asked with a grin.

A small smile tugged at the anarchist’s lips and he was grateful the mask hid it. He knew he had a problem with his emotions. He’d been forced to see a therapist when he was a kid, but all they wanted to do was medicate him with pills that never helped. Marcus, on the other hand, always seemed to help. He knew it was part of the reason he liked the hipster.

“Let’s go.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrench the emotional spectrum! I'm looking forward to exploring his past. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! More soon ^^


	3. Chapter 3

“Pizza!” Wrench sang, bounding into the living room with four large pizzas and a twelve pack of beer. Marcus had offered to carry some, but Wrench wasn’t letting go of the pizza. Or the beer…

Marcus followed in behind his loud companion, locking the door behind them. He kicked off his shoes and stretched. He was glad to see that Wrench was in a better mood as opposed to earlier. He still wished the anarchist would tell him what was bothering him though, but he wasn’t going to pry. “Yo, you are sharing that!”

“What? I thought it was your gift to me?” Wrench joked, he set the beer down on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch, the pizzas neatly stacked in his lap. “Cheese, cheese and pepperoni, cheese and pepperoni and sausage, annnnd everything. You can have the everything, the rest are mine!”

The hipster laughed and walked in. “What are we watching?”

“Shh, the pizza is speaking to me.”

Marcus snorted. “High already?” he said walking to his bookshelf, or DVD shelf to be more accurate. The four-tier bookcase was packed with the DVDs Marcus had collected over the years. He tried to keep them organized by title, but he suspected Wrench liked toying with him because every time he reorganised it, everything was messed up once again. “Pick something!”

Wrench lifted his mask just enough to tear into a slice of pizza, watching Marcus. “I don’t know, watching you go through those DVDs is pretty entertaining!”

“So you do admit you keep messing them up!”

“I need chaos in my life, M!” The tone of his voice was very serious, but he had carets for eyes.

“You are chaos.” Marcus replied, giving up at trying to find a specific DVD. He grabbed one at random and popped it into the player before snatching the remote and falling onto the couch beside his friend.

“Fucking right, I am, it’s in the job description! But M… why do you still have DVDs, how inconvenient is that?” Wrench asked. He’d already managed to inhale half a pizza and Marcus had no idea where the scrawny man was keeping it.

 “You know the government can track Netflix…”

“Who said anything about Netflix? Some hacker you are!” Wrench teased. “You _obtain_ things.” Quotation marks appeared on his mask at the word obtain.

The hipster fake gasped. “Pirate, I should report you!” Marcus replied with a grin.

“Only if you put the handcuffs on me yourself,” Wrench blurted out before realising what he’d said. His mask flashed a caret and a tilde, winking at Marcus.

Marcus laughed. “Cop kink? I thought I knew you better than that Wrench!”

“Oh I have plenty of kinks, but that is soooo not one of them,” the anarchist replied, two @ symbols appeared on his mask.

“So it’s me putting them on you, that’s the kink, huh?” Marcus grinned cheekily.

“Yes! I mean no—fuck!”

Wrench fell quiet instantly, wanting to kick himself just then. He could feel the dread rising inside him. He pushed the pizza off his lap onto the couch and felt the desire to bolt. Why did he keep doing this to himself? Who fell in love with their best friend? He scratched the back of his neck anxiously. If he ever lost Marcus as a friend…

Marcus chuckled. “Aren’t handcuffs a little vanilla for you?”

“You know what is not too vanilla? Weed!” Wrench said, instantly changing the subject. He slipped a hand into his pants pocket and tugged out a baggy with a single joint in it, dangling it in front of Marcus’s face. “Unless you’d rather continue talking about handcuffs.”

“Fuck handcuffs!” Marcus replied.

“Thought so.” Wrench grinned beneath his mask. He pushed the leather part of his mask up before removing the joint from the bag and bringing it to his lips.

Marcus grabbed a nearby lighter and lit the roach for Wrench.

The anarchist nodded his thanks at Marcus as he took a long drag from the joint. He handed it to Marcus after and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes as he slowly exhaled the smoke. His mask went blank. He felt it already calming him.

Marcus took a drag and held it for a moment. He leaned against the anarchist slightly as he slowly began to exhale. “Where did you get this?”

“Stole it from some dude at the bar last night,” Wrench said, grinning as he took the joint back from Marcus. He took another hit.

The hipster laughed. “Wouldn’t want to be that guy.”

Wrench grinned, passing the joint back to the hipster. He watched as Marcus took another hit, watched those lips blow out the smoke. Fuck it, why keep denying it to himself? Things were only getting worse. Marcus was bound to find out eventually.

Marcus looked over as he handed back the joint, but he hadn’t expected to see the anarchist removing his mask.

Wrench was watching Marcus, no longer hiding his face. He saw the surprise in the other’s eyes, but he didn’t stop to dwell on it. He closed the distance between them, brushing his lips nervously against Marcus’s. He wasn’t thinking straight. It wasn’t until he felt Marcus hesitate that he snapped back to his senses and pulled back. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking away. He took the joint back and quickly took another drag as if it was his lifeline.

Marcus was shocked. He hadn’t expected the anarchist to kiss him no matter how much he’d wanted Wrench to before. He hadn’t meant to hesitate and when Wrench apologised he instantly felt a stab of guilt in his chest. He took the joint from Wrench and put it out before he reached out and caught Wrench’s wrist when the anarchist went to put his mask back on. “For what?”

The anarchist was avidly looking away. He desperately wished Marcus would let go of his wrist, he wanted nothing more than to hide back behind his mask, but Marcus wasn’t letting him. He could hear his own heart beating obnoxiously in his ears and his face was hot, flushed red.

Marcus turned and reached forward with his free hand, gently turning Wrench’s face towards him by the anarchist’s chin. Wrench’s eyes remained averted, but Marcus didn’t care. He leaned in and brushed his lips back against the other’s.

It was Wrench’s turn to freeze. Was Marcus really kissing him? He snapped out of it quick as his lips responded to the hipster’s. His eyes fell shut. He rest his newly bandaged hand on Marcus’s shoulder.

The darker man let go of Wrench’s wrist in favour of cupping the anarchist’s face in his hands. His eyes were closed, lips moving softly against Wrench’s.

Wrench’s hand fell, forgotten by his side, the mask still clutched in his grip. He leaned forward, closer to Marcus. Nothing mattered in that moment. The man he‘d been pining for was right beside him, kissing him. He didn’t want it to end.

Marcus broke the kiss first, but he didn’t pull away. He rest his forehead on Wrench’s, his eyes still closed for a moment. “How long?”

“What?” Wrench said softly, quizzically. He was still dazed. He opened his eyes, looking down at Marcus’s lips. Oh he wanted to kiss those lips again.

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

“Too long…” Wrench watched Marcus’s lips curl into a smile and soon those lips were on his again and his eyes were falling shut. For the first time in a long time, if ever, he dropped his mask and didn’t care. He moved himself into Marcus’s lap, straddling the hipster. Maybe he was just high, but he felt bolder.

The hipster wrapped his arms around Wrench, holding the anarchist against him. He couldn’t get over the fact Wrench was there kissing him. That Wrench _wanted_ to kiss him too. His hands moved up the other’s back, feeling every stud his fingers brushed over.

Wrench’s arms slipped over Marcus’s shoulders, his lips moving passionately against the other’s. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he slid one tattooed hand up to rest on the back of the hipster’s neck. The longer the kiss went on, the longer Wrench forgot about his own shyness. The world around them was melting away, he couldn’t even hear the TV anymore.

Marcus slipped a hand into Wrench’s hair, his fingers moving softly through the dirty blond strands. His free hand fell to Wrench’s hip. He sucked lightly on the anarchist’s lower lip, his tongue slipping along the soft flesh.

Wrench shivered when he felt Marcus’s fingers in his hair, his scalp had always been sensitive. He slid a hand down Marcus’s chest, fingers tightening in the fabric of the hipster’s shirt. His tongue teased out, brushing against the other’s.

The kiss had gone quickly from soft and exploring to desperate and heated like a switch had gone off between them. Wrench had been wanting this for so long he was afraid it was still just a dream. He didn’t want to stop, he was afraid to stop as if it were really a dream that’d shatter the second he pulled away. And the hipster’s hands were slipping underneath his hoodie.

But then Marcus broke the kiss.

Wrench was panting softly, his pulse was racing. His body was on fire, every electric touch from Marcus sent tremors down his spine. He’d never wanted anyone more in his life and he flushed. “Fuck.”

“W-we should probably stop,” Marcus said. His voice was shaky and he was looking as if he was in a similar state as Wrench. His eyes were dark with desire and his voice had grown huskier. His hands were under Wrench’s hoodie, moving up the anarchist’s back.

“You don’t want me?” Wrench asked softly, he shuddered again. He could feel Marcus’s hands on his searing skin.

“Of course I do,” Marcus said. “But do you really want this or is it just the weed?”

“So fucking much,” the anarchist replied, his voice still quiet. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined your hands on me.” Wrench’s flushed, red colouring his pale cheeks as he realised what he’d just said out loud. He had no problem being crude when his mask was on, but just then he was vulnerable and exposed and to Marcus no less. He hid his face in crook of the hipster’s neck. “Not the weed.”

Marcus chuckled, letting his hands slid back down Wrench’s back and he felt the anarchist shudder against him. “Fuck, it’s just… I really like you dude and I don’t want to fuck things up. Especially since this morning I thought you were straight and I never stood a chance.”

Wrench brushed his lips against Marcus’s neck. “M, the women I’ve been with weren’t straight themselves if you get my drift. I like dick and I’ve never admitted that to anyone sober for reasons I don’t care to discuss.” He kissed the hipster’s neck again, feeling Marcus shudder beneath him. Surely he would never have said that sober, but it was the truth. “And I like you, let me show you that.”

The hipster’s eyes fluttered as he felt Wrench’s hand moving down over his stomach. He bit his lip hard, not wanting the other to stop, but they had to. “Fuck,” he cursed lowly. “Wrench, just… wait…” He swallowed hard, grabbing the anarchist’s wrist just as those torturous fingers reached his groin. “I want you so fucking bad, I do, but I want you to want me because you want me. Not because you think you need to show me anything.”

The anarchist pulled back, looking into Marcus’s eyes. There was desire there, still burning, but beneath it there was something else. Marcus cared about him, truly cared. He could see it in the hipster’s eyes and he felt that flutter of emotion in his chest again. He brushed his lips over Marcus’s.

Anyone who had ever claimed to love him, had only ever wanted something from him. People used him and left, but not Marcus. Marcus wanted him, but he was willing to take it slow for Wrench. To Wrench, love was nothing, but pain. Relationships were pain. But Marcus… Marcus wanted to prove him wrong and Wrench, for once, wasn’t going to stop him.

With heavy reluctance, Wrench pulled away and slipped onto the couch beside Marcus despite his body’s protest. “Okay… but if I stay in your lap, your clothes are going to end up on the floor.”

Marcus chuckled and set his hand on Wrench’s thigh. “I’ll tell you what, we’ll hold off on sex, but at least let me take care of what I caused.” 

Wrench fidgeted, his eyes on Marcus’s hand. It sent sparks of excitement racing through him. He knew he should have been more ashamed for getting worked up as easily as he had, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted the hipster. “Fuck, M, just take me to bed.”

The hipster knew he should have been more hesitant. He didn’t want to ruin things between them, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Wrench just as bad. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, just fucking kiss me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me! More sooner than soon, I promise! Thanks for reading~


	4. Chapter 4

Wrench was dreaming, at least he thought he had to be, but dreams never felt this fucking good. His brain was a foggy mess, but it wasn't from any drug. He'd never hallucinated this well before. Still, he couldn't believe what was happening. His free hand tangled in the sheets, gripping them so tight his knuckles were white, but he didn’t notice. His body was flooded with pleasure as Marcus went down on him. And the hipster’s sinful fingers curled inside of him to rub against his prostate. He knew he should have been more embarrassed, should have, but Marcus had him completely undone. He couldn’t think past the waves of pleasure pulsating through him. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

And he was so close, the anarchist could feel it. He was teetering on the edge, the hot pressure building in his lower abdomen. His toes were curling from it. He was torn between not wanting it to end, but the bliss of release was so damn tempting. His hips writhed on the bed, wanting nothing more than to release into Marcus’s hot mouth, but the hipster was pulling away and Wrench could have cried from the loss as he collapsed back against the bed, frustrated. “Why!”

Marcus chuckled and moved up the anarchist, his lips moving over Wrench’s neck. “Because I’ve wanted you for too long already to let you finish that quick,” he growled in the anarchist’s ear.

Wrench shuddered. “Fuck, hurry up,” he said, but there was a smirk on his lips. “I need you.”

The darker man pulled away and moved over to the nightstand. He dug around it the drawer before returning with a condom and kneeled between Wrench’s legs. He started to open the foil when Wrench stopped him.

“Give it to me,” the anarchist replied, taking it from Marcus as he sat up. He caught Marcus’s lips in a quick kiss before opening the wrapper. He quickly rolled the condom onto Marcus’s cock and grabbed the lube, generously pouring it into his hand before he began coating the hipster’s length.

Marcus moaned, resting a hand on Wrench’s neck just below his jaw as he crushed his lips to the anarchist’s in another quick, heated kiss. His hips rolled forward. He pushed the other down onto the bed and settled between Wrench’s legs.

“Wait,” Wrench breathed out, biting his lip.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked, moving up onto his knees. Concern lit up in his eyes.

“Nothing,” Wrench replied nervously. He moved up onto his knees and brushed his lips against Marcus’s before he turned and gripped the headboard. He reached behind him and pulled Marcus towards him before his hand fell to rest on the bed. He knew it was foolish, he’d been without his mask the entire time, but he still felt the need to hide his face.

And Marcus knew, Wrench was still uncomfortable without his mask and he had a feeling that was why the anarchist turned around, but he didn’t say anything. He kissed along the other’s shoulder. “Ready?” He rolled his hips against Wrench’s rear, his breath hitching at the light friction.

“Any more stupid questions?” Wrench asked, a grin tugging at his lips as he pushed back against Marcus impatiently. He’d wanted this for too long now and Marcus was sweet, but Wrench was getting more impatient. He wasn’t used to a partner that cared if he was alright.

The hipster chuckled, he rest his hand on the other’s hip while his free gripped the base of his own length. He guided himself to Wrench’s entrance and began slowly pushing in. His lips traveling lightly over the anarchist’s shoulder.

Wrench shuddered the second he felt Marcus entering him, a soft groan escaped his lips. It was uncomfortable at first, but the hipster was moving way too slow. He pushed himself back on Marcus, his breath hitching as the hipster’s girth filled him.

Marcus groaned lowly in Wrench’s ear as he was swallowed by the anarchist’s tight heat. “Fuck.” He slowly rolled his hips, letting the anarchist adjust.

“Ngh, move Marcus. I’m not going to break,” Wrench groaned out, lips tugging into a smirk. Definitely not used to someone who cared.

The darker man chuckled softly and moved up onto his knees as he started moving inside the anarchist. The pace was slow at first, gradually increasing the more Wrench pushed back, but soon he was pounding into the other’s writing body, spurred on by the sounds leaving Wrench’s lips.

One hand gripped the headboard, while Wrench’s other hand fisted in the sheets. He moaned throatily, thrusting his hips back to meet the hipster’s movements. His head dropped between his arms, eyes shut.

Marcus gripped Wrench’s hips as he moved inside the anarchist, his nails biting into Wrench’s soft skin. He leaned down, kissing over the anarchist’s shoulder. “I want to see your face.”

“No,” Wrench replied, shuddering yet again as Marcus’s lips moved up his neck, those teeth nipping at his ear. He groaned. He released the bedsheets and brought his hand down to his own length, pumping his cock.

The hipster slipped a hand up Wrench’s back, his fingers slipped into the anarchist’s hair and pulled his head back. “Why not?” he whispered in the tattooed man’s ear, his voice deep and husky and Wrench moaned.

“Because,” the anarchist groaned out. He trusted Marcus, he did, but old habits died hard and he was still uncomfortable showing his face. “Fuck, M, harder.”

Marcus sat back up on his knees, shifting his hips as he picked up the pace. “I want to kiss you,” he said, breathlessly.

Wrench dropped his head again, his body arching as Marcus brushed against his prostate. He moaned the hipster’s name loudly, his body trembling. He’d never been with anyone quite like this before. Most people were selfish with their own pleasure, but Marcus was focusing completely on Wrench “Fuck fuck fuck right fucking there.” His hand sped up on his own cock, his body trembling. He wasn’t going to last.

The hipster kissed over the anarchist shoulder again, his hips holding their angle as he thrust into the other. He slipped a hand around Wrench, his fingers running down the other’s stomach. He pushed Wrench’s hand away and took up stroking the anarchist’s cock.

The tattooed man turned his head, keeping his burned side away from Marcus. He reached with his newly freed hand and pulled Marcus into a sloppy kiss over his shoulder. “So fucking close,” he whispered against the hipster’s lips.

Marcus kissed the corner of Wrench’s mouth. “Then cum for me,” the hipster whispered against Wrench’s lips. He could feel his own climax approaching, but he held back. He focused his attention on Wrench.

Wrench couldn’t hold back any longer if he tried. A loud moan escaped his lips, his voice breaking down into incoherent cursing as he slipped over the edge, pleasure clouding his mind. Body trembling, he released over Marcus’s hand and onto the sheets below.

The hipster groaned throatily as Wrench clenched around him and soon he followed the anarchist over the edge, releasing into the condom with a stifled moan in Wrench’s neck. He shuddered against the anarchist as he gradually slowed his hips.

Wrench leaned heavily against the headboard in a daze as he slowly came down from his high. His legs felt like jelly in the best way. He still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened and he chuckled lightly, still trying to catch his breath. “Damn.”

Marcus chuckled. “I hope that’s a good damn.” He carefully pulled out of the anarchist before collapsing onto the bed beside Wrench. He slipped the condom off and tossed it into the trash.

“Mhm,” Wrench replied, laying down beside the hipster, careful to avoid the mess on the sheets. He threw an arm over his face, covering it up.

“Did I actually manage to make you, the Wrench, speechless?” Marcus grinned at the man beside him, but Wrench wasn’t really listening.

Wrench was struggling with his own thoughts. He’d never been with someone who didn’t want to use him. He himself had used sex as an escape before, but this time was different… At least it was to him. He really cared about Marcus, but did Marcus really care about him? He felt so vulnerable with out his mask and he rubbed his face.

“Wrench, hey man, are you okay?” Marcus said, frowning. He rolled onto his side to face the anarchist.

The anarchist cursed his inability to think when his dick was hard. He sat up, flinching from the soreness in his rear, but he ignored it, keeping his back to the hipster.

It was no surprise that Wrench had had a rough past. Or maybe it was. He hid from it, at least he tried. He was constantly running to distance himself from it as far as he could. He even wore a mask to hide his face from the world. Changed his name and personality. He did not want to be that fucked up kid from the past. So, he buried it.

The problem was that Wrench wasn’t Wrench without his mask. He wasn’t much of anything without the mask he wore as a crutch. He was too shy, too scared to show his face. Too scared to let people see the real him. He’d had enough of people not liking him. Of people using him.

He didn’t want to be close to anyone because being close meant pain. Love hurt more than anything and he’d already had to claw himself up from the dirt. He’d had to piece himself back together all on his own. He made himself who he was today, but the consequence was he couldn’t let anyone in. He wouldn’t.

At least that was what he told himself. At least until Marcus had come into his life.

“Wrench… what are you thinking about?” Marcus asked softly. He sat up and moved behind the anarchist, slipping one arm around Wrench’s slim waist as his lips moved softly along the other’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen you this quiet.”

Wrench was staring at his mask where it lay on the bedside table. Every fibre in his being wanted to grab that mask and hide his face. He was silent, but his mind was racing. What had he done? Marcus was his best friend. He hadn’t ruined that, had he? He’d been so caught up in the heat of the moment. He’d wanted Marcus so badly, but now what?

“Do you regret it?” Marcus asked, tensing up a bit.

The pale man sighed softly, he could feel Marcus tensing. He felt naked, not just because he wasn’t wearing clothes, but truly naked as if Marcus could read his thoughts. “No,” he replied, his voice quiet. “Unless you do.”

“Never,” Marcus replied. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m no catch,” Wrench replied.

“You are to me,” the hipster replied, kissing Wrench’s shoulder again. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

Wrench felt himself relaxing a little despite himself. He rest a hand on the arm around him. “I wish you’d known me, before… Maybe I would be a better person.”

“You are a better person than you realise,” Marcus said softly.

“Hm, you wouldn’t say that if you knew the real me.”

“So tell me.”

“That part of me is dead. Or… I want him to be.” Wrench slid his hand over Marcus’s, threading his fingers in between the hipster’s.

“I fell for you, this you and your past won’t change that. I just simply want to get to know you, the deeper you,” Marcus said, and Wrench found himself believing Marcus.

Wrench knew he could trust the other. He’d already tried burying and denying his feelings for the hipster, but nothing had worked. Something about Marcus had relaxed Wrench, healed some of the hurt still inside, but it also showed him there was still hurt there to feel. He sighed and pulled from Marcus’s grip.

Marcus rubbed Wrench’s back. “Hey, if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t need to know. Don’t worry about it, okay? Forget I said anything.” He smiled reassuringly.

The anarchist looked at Marcus and felt himself relaxing again, cursing that smile mentally. “Fuck you for having this effect on me,” he said, but he was smiling and he looked away to hide it. He relaxed against Marcus’s side.

The hipster smiled, wrapping his arm around Wrench. “Because I am charming and swarthy.”

“You still aren’t as swarthy as Devon von Devon,” Wrench said with a smirk.

“Hey! Would you rather be with Jimmy Siska than me?” Marcus teased.

“Yup! I mean have you seen the man?!”

Marcus huffed and Wrench smiled lightly, but the anarchist was looking down again.

“You want to be with me? If there is enough of me left…” Wrench said, looking up at Marcus. He was searching the other’s face again, looking for a sign of rejection. He still wasn’t expecting the warm smile he got instead.

“Yes,” Marcus replied and he lifted a hand, touching Wrench’s cheek lightly. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Wrench’s. “Do you want to be with me?” he whispered.

Wrench moved and straddled Marcus’s lap, his lips never once leaving Marcus’s. “More than anything,” he whispered, pushing Marcus back against the pillows.

One of Marcus’s hands fell to the anarchist’s hip while the other rest against Wrench’s cheek as he kissed Wrench, leaning up to deepen the kiss. “Good, I wasn’t going to give you a choice,” he teased, grinning.

The anarchist smirked. He rest a hand beside Marcus’s head, supporting himself as his other hand held the back of Marcus’s neck. “Someday, maybe… someday I’ll let you in,” he said softly. “Just please be patient with me.”

Marcus rolled them over, lying on top of Wrench. He looked into the other’s eyes and caressed Wrench’s cheek softly. “I’ll never force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. I’m just happy you like me too,” he said softly. “When you are ready, I’ll always be here to listen.”

Wrench smiled softly, wrapping his arms around Marcus’s neck. He didn’t like the sappy stuff, he wasn’t used to it, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good. He was still waiting for the bad to happen. “Good, now shut up and kiss me.”

The hipster chuckled before sealing the distance between their lips just as Wrench’s phone went off, screeching from the bedside table. “I’ll get it.”

The anarchist let out an annoyed growl. “No, just fucking ignore it.” He pulled Marcus back into the kiss.

“It’s been ringing a lot lately,” Marcus replied.

“Yeah, and if it was important they would leave a message.”

“Maybe you should answer it just to be safe,” Marcus suggested, rolling off Wrench reluctantly.

“Fine, if only because it’s annoying as fuck.” The anarchist sighed and pulled on his mask before answering his phone with his synthetic voice. “What?”

_“Reginald? Mom’s sick.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'd have it soon :D Annnd I had to up the rating, oops! Thanks for reading, more soon!


	5. Chapter 5

_“Reginald! What have you done?”_

_“Nothing?” He could barely make out the shape standing in front of him, a blackened shadow that radiated dread. There was something he couldn’t remember… something he’d done, but what was it? Everything was so foggy._

_“Don’t lie to me, boy,” the shadow spat, it’s voice so familiar and so cold. Yet he couldn’t recall their face._

_The boy could feel the shadows around him, suffocating him with fear. He backed up, trying to get away, but there was only darkness reaching for him. He started to run, but something cold wrapped around his ankle and suddenly he was falling._

_He hit the ground hard in something sticky and warm, but he still couldn’t see. Where was he and why was he filled with such panic? What was he forgetting?_

_He climbed to his feet again when suddenly his face seared with pain and he quickly covered it, trying to stop the burning sensation, but his hands were covered in whatever it was he had fallen in and he ended up coating his face._

_The boy stumbled back again, blind in the darkness, when his back hit something cool and solid. It felt like glass and light flared up around him. He blinked back the harshness of the sudden light and found himself trapped in a ring of mirrors, each one reflecting an image of a boy he didn’t recognize._

_The reflection was of a sixteen-year-old boy with hollow blue eyes and dishevelled, ash-blond hair. His skin was sickly pale with a fresh burn surrounding his left eye. From the swelling alone, it was a wonder the eye its self wasn’t damaged, but that wasn’t even the most jarring part. The reflection was staring back at the boy with a gleaming, blood covered shard of glass in its hand. There was something so familiar about it, but the boy couldn’t think past the cloud in his mind._

_The reflection grinned and suddenly the mirrors all fractured and burst inward._

_The boy cried out and ducked, covering his head to brace himself from the rain of shards, but it never came and slowly he stood back up to find the blood covered glass shard now in his own hand. His clothes splattered in the same crimson red._

 

Wrench bolted up in bed, gasping for breath. His heart was racing, hammering in his chest and for a moment he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was. He was surrounding in darkness, his panic rising when he slowly adjusted to his surroundings. He was in bed, Marcus’s bed. The hipster was sleeping soundly beside him.

He threw the covers off himself and climbed to his feet. He grabbed the mask from the bedside table and crammed it on his face before he hurriedly pulled his clothes back on. He couldn’t get rid of the panic that was swelling inside of him and he needed to get out.

“Wrench?” Marcus’s tiredly asked, lifting his head from the pillow as he watched the anarchist moving about his room. “Is everything okay?”

“I need to go,” Wrench mumbled. “I’m sorry.” He fled from the room before the hipster could stop him and he didn’t stop to see if Marcus was following him as he left the apartment. It was late at night, but he needed to get away. Needed the fresh air. He felt trapped and panicky like some caged animal. It had been a long time since he’d had a nightmare, but it seemed one phone call and he was completely unravelling. And that was something Marcus did not need to witness.

 

***

 

“Yo, Wrench!”

Wrench lifted his head from the cool, metal table in his garage, though he didn’t need to see to know who it was. He struggled into a sitting position, sending empty bottles tumbling noisily to the floor. His back was stiff from sleeping on the hard surface. “Hello coffee,” he muttered, clearly hung over.

Marcus snorted. “Good to see you too, man. Drunk before noon?”

“Coffee delivery man, why do you look so familiar?” Question marks appeared on the anarchist’s mask as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge. “Hung over.”

The hipster chuckled as he neared his friend and handed a coffee to the anarchist. “I better be more familiar to you than just a coffee man. You should drink that and sober up.”

“No fun being sober,” Wrench mumbled, but he gratefully accepted the coffee. At some point, he’d passed out, but he knew it hadn’t been anywhere near enough sleep and now he just regretted drinking. Still, it was the only way he’d been able to sleep without the dreams.

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck as he took a sip of his coffee, nervous of what he wanted to ask. “Wrench, are we going to talk? You just ran out last night and evidently got drunk.”

“We’re talking right now,” the anarchist replied, lifting part of his mask to sip the coffee.

“That’s not what I meant.”

The anarchist just sighed.

“Do you regret it?” Marcus asked, frowning.

“No.”

“Wrench, you’re going to have to talk to me eventually,” Marcus said with a heavy sigh.

“You weren’t the reason I ran out.” Wrench said, looking down at the coffee clutched in his hands. His mask was blank. He knew Marcus wouldn’t judge him, but it wasn’t easy opening up. Since the day they met, Marcus had never once questioned him or judged him for his lifestyle and his mask. He knew if they were to get serious, he really did owe Marcus an explanation, but he didn’t know where to even begin.

The darker man frowned. “Was it the phone call? I know it upset you.”

“I had a nightmare,” Wrench said. He knew how stupid he sounded to himself admitting it out loud, but it had been more than just a bad dream to Wrench. “I used to get them often and I thought I’d gotten over them. Evidently fucking not.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” the hipster asked. There was concern in Marcus’s eyes, but for some reason it just annoyed Wrench.

 “What happened to you staying out of my business?” he snapped. Wrench hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t, but old habits die hard. His defences were always up and his automatic reaction was to push people away.

“It became my business when you slept with me and took off,” Marcus replied, his voice harsher than he meant, but he saw through the anarchist’s attempts at diverting the conversation. “Man, knock it off. I like you Wrench, like really like you. I just wish you’d let me in sometimes. Let me help you.”

“You’re right…” Wrench said. “You’re my best friend and I should be letting you in. Especially if what we’ve got is going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, man, I—”

“No, I’m sorry. I had a shitty fucking past, man, and as much as I deny it, it still controls my life. You are right, we do need to talk.” Wrench sighed, shaking his head. He lifted a hand and let it rest on his mask.

“It’s okay, I am willing to wait for you. I told you, I am here when you want to talk about it. I just want you to know that I am here. Let me in when things are bothering you, okay?” Marcus set his coffee down and moved close to the anarchist.

Wrench shook his head. “No… I need to do this now.” He swallowed hard, his nerves rising. If he was going to expose his past, he couldn’t do it as Wrench. His mask had to go, it wasn’t a part of that and he wanted to keep them separate. “You’ve been so patient with me… I need you to understand.” He slowly tugged the mask off.

Marcus’s brow furrowed, frowning a little in concern. “This isn’t because I pushed you?”

The anarchist looked away, his eyes still on the ground. He needed to start now or he didn’t know if he ever would. He knew the phone call had been bad news even after he’d hung up immediately. If his past was catching up to him, Marcus had every right to know.

“I left home when I was sixteen and I never looked back. I left them all behind, my _family_. If you can call them a family. What kind of father beats the life out of his son?” Wrench said, shifting anxiously. He’d never talked to anyone about his past before and it was strange letting someone in. “It started when I was nine, I think, and only got worse the older I got. A lawyer can’t have a faggot son, right?” His mask was still clutched in his hands and he was staring at it. “Or so he liked to tell me.”

Marcus felt a protectiveness stir inside him and he moved closer to the anarchist, a frown tugging at his lips. He couldn’t even begin to think of what Wrench had gone through. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t burn my face. Yeah, he did that by the way, when he found me with a classmate, a boy. We were just kissing. I was 13, what the fuck did I know about sexuality back then? It sent him into a rage and he burned my face.” Wrench finally looked up. “Then there was the mental abuse, that started well before the physical stuff. And my mother took his side every fucking time. Even my sister joined in.”

“Christ,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “What kind of father hurts their own child?! Is that why you hide your face?” He was frowning.

“I hide because I don’t want to be that kid. My real face… it’s just a reminder of what I let happen to myself.” Wrench sighed and looked away again. His eyes nervously moved around the room. He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever talked this much to anyone without his mask. “I created Wrench to get away from it all. I wanted to start fresh, be someone else. And it worked, with that mask I’m not afraid to be me. At least while it is on. And it was a good way to hide from the public so my family would never find me. Or so I thought. Either way, Sitara was right only she doesn’t know why. I only slept with guys when I was drunk. At least until I met you. I still have a hard time facing my feelings and admitting I’m gay. I’m still fucking damaged no matter how hard I try to hide it.” He shook his head again and lifted a hand to rub his face.

“Wrench, you didn’t ask for that. You didn’t let it happen,” Marcus replied. His parents had always been supportive, he couldn’t imagine what the anarchist had had to go through. “You don’t have to run, I won’t let him hurt you.”

“No, he won’t hurt anyone again. He’s dead,” Wrench said, looking away. “Doesn’t mean the mental damage isn’t still there. So unless you can fight the demons in my head…”

“I can try.”

Wrench looked at Marcus, his brow furrowed. “Why? I’m a mess and now you know why. You can do so much better.”

Marcus stepped closer, lifting a hand to the anarchist’s face. He ran his fingers lightly along the burn before resting his hand on Wrench’s cheek. “Because I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Wrench, you don’t see what I see. You think you’re a mess, but I think you’re so strong for dealing with all of that.”

Wrench snorted. “So strong, that’s why I ran and changed my identity. Why I can’t do social interaction without a mask. And that’s why when my sister called last night, I lost it.”

The hipster shook his head. “Wrench, I am here for you and I’m not going anywhere.” He wrapped his arms around the anarchist as if to prove his point, standing between the other’s legs. “I’m going to help you through this.”

Wrench leaned heavily against the hipster. He hated this side of himself. He hated that all this stuff was surfacing just when he thought it was gone. Just when he got Marcus. But he supposed it was karma, nothing good could come of his life. Nothing. But he had to admit, it did feel better to get it off his chest.

Marcus’s arms tightened around Wrench and for a moment he forgot. Just a moment. Wrench knew something bad was coming and he didn’t want to drag Marcus down with him, but for that moment in Marcus’s arms, it didn’t matter if his family found him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, returning the embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to have this out yesterday, buuuut it's here now! I hope you liked it, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m going to take a quick shower, order pizza?” Marcus asked as he backed up through the apartment, looking at Wrench. They’d just gotten back from the anarchist’s garage.

“A quick shower? What fun is that!” Wrench replied, kicking his shoes off beside the door. He shrugged his vest off and carelessly tossed it on the couch.

Marcus paused, raising an eyebrow. “You want me to take a long shower?”

“Well, it’s Cali, man. Droughts an all that shit, you need to conserve water so I better shower with you,” the anarchist said, his mask flashing a winking face. “Y’know, make sure you don’t use too much water.”

Marcus grinned. He was glad to see Wrench’s humour had returned. “That wouldn’t conserve water in the least. Plus it’s raining outside.”

Wrench crossed his arms over his chest, his mask flashing ¬¬.

The hipster laughed and headed into his room. “Get your skinny ass in here then.” He tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside carelessly as he moved into the bathroom. He reached into the shower and turned on the tap, letting it warm up as arms slipped around him.

Marcus grinned and leaned back against the anarchist. “You’re right, this is a much better idea.

Wrench’s mask displayed carets as his hands slipped down. He worked Marcus’s pants open and pushed them down, his chin resting on the hipster’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around the hipster.

The darker man reached behind him and slipped his fingers through Wrench’s hair. He turned his head and brushed his lips gently against Wrench’s exposed neck, unable to kiss the anarchist’s lips. He rest his head on the tattooed man’s bare shoulder.

The anarchist lifted a hand and pulled the leather part of his mask up before he leaned in, brushing his lips against the hipster’s. He closed his eyes beneath the mask, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips.

Marcus returned the kiss, his eyes slipping shut. He forgot about the shower, his lips moving slowly against Wrench’s. Wrench wasn’t a skilled kisser, but Marcus loved kissing the anarchist all the same.

Wrench let his hands wander, fingers teasing over the hipster’s quivering stomach, nails grazing lightly along just above the elastic band of Marcus’s boxers and he felt the other shudder. He felt the spark of desire burn inside of him and he pulled away. “Right, shower!”

The hipster was dazed at the speed with which Wrench had pulled away, but he recovered quickly. He smirked at the other and slipped his boxers off.

The anarchist swallowed hard. “Fucking shit, M… you’ll be the death of me,” he said quietly, trying to will himself to calm down, but that didn’t mean his eyes weren’t wandering. Oh, he wanted Marcus, there was no denying that, but…

Marcus frowned when Wrench hesitated. “What’s wrong? We don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s…” Wrench’s gaze fell. “It’s different now. Fuck, I want you, it’s just…” He sighed, frustrated with himself. He knew he was more intelligent than he showed, but where was some of that intelligence now when he needed it?

Marcus moved towards the anarchist and brushed his lips lightly against Wrench’s. “You don’t have to explain yourself. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Quick shower?”

Wrench smiled and slipped an arm around Marcus. “It just feels different now. Sex has always been an escape for me. Hell, I know I’m vulgar all the time… But with you it’s different. I want you, I do. I just… Fuck! I don’t know the words! You aren’t just an escape for me.”

The hipster was smiling again as he kissed Wrench. He knew how uncomfortable Wrench was trying to explain his feelings. “C’mon, we’ll just shower. Then food!”

“You aren’t mad?”

“Of course, not. I will wait for as long as you want,” Marcus replied. He kissed Wrench’s lips briefly before he turned and climbed into the shower.

Wrench was relieved. He slipped out of his pants quickly before climbing in after Marcus, pausing just long enough to leave his mask behind on the sink. He moved behind Marcus, slipping his arms around the hipster again. “M…”

“Hmm?”

“Does that mean we are dating and shit?”

Marcus chuckled. “I’d like us to be.”

“Me too.”

 

 

_It was dark, but flames licked the skyline, raising up from the silhouettes of crumbled houses, all charred black and collapsing. They stretched down the street as far as the eye could see like a corridor of fire. The flames toyed at the pavement, but jumped back as if they couldn’t cross an invisible barrier._

_The boy could feel the heat of the fires on his skin from where he lie in the street. He slowly rose to his feet, his eyes moving around rapidly. He spun in a circle, lost and afraid and desperately trying to gain his bearings. He couldn’t recall where he was. There was absolutely no sign of life anywhere. He was alone._

_Suddenly a growl came from his right and he turned fast. A large black wolf was staring at him. Its eyes were glowing yellow and reflecting the vibrant red of the flames. Its muzzle was salivating as it growled menacingly and started to advance._

_The boy turned and ran instantly, but the wolf bound toward him. He ran as fast as he could, his lungs burning like they would burst, but it was no use, he could feel the hot breath of the wolf close on his heels. He’d never be able to outrun the creature._

_Without warning, six more beasts jumped out, surrounding him. The boy was trapped and the panic was building. He had nowhere to go. His eyes darted around anxiously when the original wolf neared. He tried to back away, but the wolves behind him snapped at his feet._

_With a snarl the wolf lunged, knocking the boy off his feet so hard the wind was knocked from his lungs. He cried out and tried to fight the wolf off, but it was no use. The beast sank its teeth into the boy’s shoulder._

 

 

Wrench cried out in his sleep, startling the sleeping man beside him awake. The anarchist was thrashing his head about, trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

Marcus rolled onto his side, his chest pressing into Wrench’s back. He wrapped his arms tightly around the anarchist, holding the thrashing man against him. “Wrench, Wrench wake up,” he said, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face. “It’s just a dream.” He shook the other lightly.

The anarchist gasped as he was startled awake. His heart was pounding in his chest, he could hear it in his ears and he shook. There was a ball of panic coiling heavily in his chest. It took him a moment to realize where he was. “M-Marcus?”

“I’ve got you,” Marcus replied softly, holding the anarchist tightly. “You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.”

Wrench couldn’t stop his racing pulse. He was panting heavily as reality slowly came back to him. His eyes were squeezed shut tight beneath the mask and he moved his hands, clutching Marcus’s arms in a death grip, but the hipster didn’t mind. He curled up and Marcus curled with him, never letting go.

“It’s alright,” the hipster replied, soothingly. He could feel Wrench shaking against him, his body trembling and he held on tight. “You’re safe.”

The anarchist felt his eyes burning and the tears silently flowed over. He hated crying. It made him feel weak, but he couldn’t stop them short of them turning into rage. He stayed silent, refusing to let go of Marcus.

Marcus kissed the anarchist’s shoulder and nuzzled his face into Wrench’s neck. He held tight, even when Wrench began to relax. He listened quietly as Wrench’s breathing began to return to normal.

“I’m sorry,” Wrench said so quietly Marcus almost missed it.

“For what?”

“Waking you.”

“Shh, you have no reason to be sorry.”

Wrench fell quiet. If his life had taught him anything it was that he was on his own, at least that’s what he’d thought. The only person that could comfort him was himself and crying wasn’t an option. So instead he’d get angry. He didn’t feel weak when he was angry. He’d destroy stuff, it was therapeutic to him. It wasn’t healthy, but what did he care?

Then Marcus came along and changed everything before the anarchist had even realised what was happening. Wrench had instantly gravitated to the hipster. Marcus had never questioned him, never bothered him about his mask. The hipster had just accepted him. Of course, Wrench had ended up falling for the other, but it was more than that.

Wrench trusted Marcus and trust wasn’t something that came easy for the anarchist, but he’d found himself trusting Marcus naturally. He had never told a soul about any part of his past before let alone most of it.

And Marcus had stayed. Wrench had been so sure that Marcus would want nothing to do with him once he’d learned how fucked up Wrench really was, but Marcus hadn’t judged him at all. Nor had he pitied the anarchist. Wrench hated pity most considering most people didn’t actually care, they just wanted to look like a good person. But not Marcus, Marcus was truly good.

Wrench sighed. “M… lay on your back.”

Marcus reluctantly pulled away, figuring Wrench just didn’t want to be touched. He rolled onto his back.

The anarchist rolled over and pressed himself against Marcus’s side. He rest his head on the hipster’s chest just below the other’s chin and pulled his mask off. He blindly set it on nightstand beside the bed before wrapping his arms around the other. His face was still hidden, but no longer by the mask.

Marcus smiled and rest a hand on one of Wrench’s arms. His other hand moved up into the anarchist’s hair, moving slowly through the soft, unruly strands.  

“How do you put up with me?” Wrench said quietly.

The hipster smiled, he liked Wrench’s real voice. “Because I care about you and you deserve someone who cares.”

Wrench hummed softly in response. “I care about you too.” He fell silent after that, listening to Marcus’s breathing slow steadily. The rhythmic beat of the hipster’s heart was slowly relaxing Wrench. He knew the other had fallen back to sleep and soon after, he joined Marcus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed it! More soon ^^ ~~anyone else cracking up as hard as me at the new DLC? O_O~~


	7. Chapter 7

It was still late, or maybe it was early, Wrench didn’t really know or care. They’d been at Marcus’s apartment, but both of them had been far too wired to sleep so they’d wound up at the hackerspace. The others had all retreated home for the night leaving the two alone to watch movies on the large screens.

Wrench had removed his vest and left it hanging over the back of the couch as he was leaning against Marcus with the hipster’s arm around him. At some point during their mini movie marathon he’d dozed off, his head on the other’s shoulder.

Marcus was left awake, but he hadn’t minded. He was happy to see Wrench sleeping peacefully, his hand occasionally rubbing the anarchist’s arm whenever Wrench started to fidget, but the other had slept soundly as Marcus continued the movie marathon now solo.

“This movie is boring,” Wrench mumbled as he slowly roused from sleep. His synthesizer hid the tired sound of his voice, but didn’t stop the tired mumbling. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and his mask remained blank.

The hipster chuckled. “You haven’t even been watching it.”

“The fighting sounds cheesy as fuck, M,” Wrench mumbled, stretching out a little, but he refused to move away from the warmth that was Marcus. He cracked an eye open and one X appeared on his mask.

“You fell asleep so I got to choose the movie!” Marcus replied, grinning.

Wrench fully opened his eyes and his mask flashed “at” signs. “Terrible! Where are the explosions? And the blood? There’s no blood, M!”

“Go back to sleeeeep!”

“I just might. I had a dream and I was there and you were there and you were doing this funny thing where your lips were attached to mine,” Wrench rambled on. “Why aren’t you doing that Marcus?” He shot the hipster and annoyed expression, ><.

“Kissing? We were kissing? If I do that now I’d end up with a bloody lip from your mask!” the hipster replied, laughing.

Wrench glanced over his shoulder, peering at the stairs before looking around the space. When he was satisfied no one was there he moved, reluctantly vacating the warmth of Marcus’s side to slip into a better position in the hipster’s lap. He straddled Marcus before tugging his mask off.

“This seems like you had quite a nice dream,” Marcus said, another grin tugging at his lips. He wrapped his arms around the anarchist holding Wrench against him, he tilted his head back as Wrench’s lips brushed against his.

The anarchist relaxed into the kiss, his eyes falling shut. He rest his hand on the back of Marcus’s neck as he leaned down, lips brushing over the hipster’s. He blindly set the mask beside them in favour of resting his newly freed hand on Marcus’s bicep.

Marcus rest a hand on the other’s hip as he slipped the other hand into Wrench’s hair despite the hood still in place. The kiss had quickly grown deeper as Wrench’s tongue ran along his lower lip before the anarchist’s teeth tugged lightly at it.

For someone who hid his face from everyone, Wrench found that he liked kissing. Or at least he liked kissing Marcus. The hipster’s lips were soft and welcoming against his own, but their kissing always started out innocent and escalated quickly.

“You’re making it so hard to behave,” Marcus said, with a soft laugh after he broke the kiss.

Wrench chuckled. “Sorry.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Nope!” A lazy smirk tugged at Wrench’s lips, they couldn’t go all the way there, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do _other_ things. He leaned down, letting his lips trail up the hipster’s neck, loving when Marcus shuddered.

“What are you doing?” Marcus said, but he tilted his head, giving Wrench better access to his neck.

“I’m heroically saving you from a boring movie!” Wrench proclaimed with a small smirk. He ran a hand slowly down the hipster’s torso.

“Hey I was really into that,” the hipster replied, but he was grinning.

Wrench slipped his hand down between their bodies and shamelessly groped the hipster. “Are you sure about that?”

Marcus’s breath hitched lightly and he bit his lip. “I thought you wanted to wait?” he queried. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I did. Three days.” Wrench smirked.

Marcus snorted, biting his lip as Wrench squeezed him again.

“I realised I don’t have to prove anything to myself. I like you and I want to be with you because I want to be with _you_. Not because I just need an escape,” the anarchist replied softly, looking into Marcus’s eyes. He dropped his hands to his boyfriend’s pants, quickly working them open as he nipped and tugged at the hipster’s lower lip again. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“Fuck no,” Marcus breathed out, crashing his lips back against the anarchist’s.

Wrench smirked against the hipster’s lips, slipping his hand into the other’s pants. He ran his hand over Marcus’s cock, palming the other through the thin material of his boxers. He could feel Marcus growing under his touch despite the tightness of Marcus’s pants hindering his movements.

Marcus cupped Wrench’s cheek, kissing the anarchist back passionately. He slipped his free hand under Wrench’s hoodie, letting his fingers wander up the other’s back, they danced over the warm skin and Wrench shuddered.

Annoyed with how tight Marcus’s pants were, he quickly freed the hipster’s hardening length, his hand pumping it teasingly slow. He broke the kiss. “Can your hipster pants get any tighter?”

Marcus chuckled, nipping at the anarchist’s lower lip. “You like them.” He rolled his hips as best he could with Wrench still in his lap.

“I do like your ass in them,” Wrench admitted with a grin before he sealed his lips back over the hipsters. His hand paused, thumb rolling over the tip before slowly moving again.

The hipster grinned against his boyfriend’s lips before letting out a muffled moan. His lips moved heatedly against Wrench’s as his hand dropped from the punk’s cheek and ran up Wrench’s thigh, but Wrench swatted his hand away.

Wrench moved off Marcus’s lap and knelt on the floor. His fingers curled around the base of Marcus’s length as he leaned forward and took the head past his lips, his tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh.

Marcus groaned, biting his lip as he looked down at the anarchist. He wished Wrench would remove his hood, but he wasn’t going to push it. Instead he slipped his hand beneath it, his fingers running through Wrench’s hair as best they could.

The anarchist shivered at Marcus’s touch. He slowly began letting the hipster slid past his lips further into his mouth. His tongue moved around, massaging every surface it could reach and he swallowed around Marcus’s girth.

The hipster’s head fell back as Wrench started up a quick pace. His fingers moved through his boyfriend’s hair while his other hand gripped the couch beside him, his hips rolling. “Fuck, Wrench.”

Wrench bobbed his head quickly, swallowing Marcus’s cock and groaning as Marcus’s fingers tightened in his hair. He slipped a hand up the hipster’s thigh, squeezing it lightly before his nails grazed back down.

“Fuck,” Marcus mumbled, his head falling back again, his eyes closed. He trembled as the pleasure rolled through him in waves. He was getting close, he could feel it building up in the pit of his stomach, the pressure that was threatening to burst. “Close.”

The anarchist sped up, his cheeks hollowing around the hipster’s cock.

Marcus felt himself slipping and with a low moan, he came, body flooded with pleasure. His fingers involuntarily tightening slightly in Wrench’s hair while his other hand flew up beside his head, gripping the couch. His body was shuddering. “Fuck!”

Wrench continued moving his head, letting Marcus ride out his orgasm before he let the hipster’s cock slip from his lips. He quickly grabbed an empty beer bottle from the floor and spat out the remains of Marcus’s release.

The hipster chuckled, but it was short lived. Before he could respond, they both heard the code being punched into the door and they jumped to fix themselves.

Wrench grinned as he rapidly stuffed his mask back on, sending Marcus a winking face as the hipster hastily stuffed himself back into his pants. Wrench was laughing obnoxiously as he stood and Marcus himself couldn’t help but grin.

“Mornin’, fuckers,” Wrench announced as the others spilled into the hackerspace. He was in a good mood and Marcus was happy to see it. It had been days since he received a phone call and he’d been spending all that time with Marcus. Of course, he knew they’d probably get an earful from Sitara for playing hooky, but he didn’t care.

“Where have you two been?” Sitara asked as if on cue.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Wrench said in a singsong voice. He pulled his vest back on and patted Marcus’s shoulder lightly as he walked away, heading to his work bench.

“Sorry, Sitara,” Marcus said, turning in the chair to look at her. “Lost track of time.”

“For three days? What were you doing?” Sitara said, eyeing the two men.

“Oh y’know, alcohol, video games, discovering new porn,” Wrench said, waving the screw driver around as he spoke. He was grinning beneath his mask. “We’ve been here all night, where have _you_ been?”

“Alright, alright, it’s none of my business,” Sitara said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Anyway, Marcus, up for a job?”

“Sure, what’s up?” the hipster replied.

Wrench tuned the two out, his mind wandering as he tinkered away with the computer in front of him. He was happy, something he didn’t know if he’d ever felt aside from when DedSec took him in. It was a strange feeling, a good one, but a strange feeling nonetheless.

“Earth to Wrench, are you in there?” Sitara waved a hand in front of the anarchist’s face.

“Huh?” Wrench asked, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts with question marks lighting up his mask.

“I need you to go with Marcus on this one,” she replied.

“Will I get to blow shit up?”

“Hey,” Marcus said, throwing his arm around the anarchist’s shoulders, mindful of the rivets. “Would I ask for my favourite pyromaniac if he didn’t get to set a few charges?”

“Oh, M, you say the sweetest shit,” Wrench replied, less than three hearts flashing on his mask.

“Be careful, both of you,” Sitara said, retreating to her corner. “Keep me updated!”

“Who do you take me for, Sitara? I’m responsible!” Wrench replied and Marcus snorted. “I’ll make sure M makes it back with all his parts.”

Marcus chuckled, already headed up the stairs. “My parts better not be anywhere near the explosions,” he replied, punching in the code and holding the door for the anarchist.

“I’ll personally protect your bits, don’t worry,” Wrench said, shooting Marcus a winking face as he slipped out the door. “We need to stop back at my garage first.”

 

It was a quick trip over to the garage, but they were taking their time. Wrench was enjoying Marcus’s company far too much. And Marcus was happy to see the other in better spirits. He hooked his arm around the anarchist’s neck and pulled Wrench close, kissing Wrench’s hooded head.

“Gay!” Carets flashed on Wrench’s mask.

“Oh, that’s gay?” Marcus said, grinning.

“There is nothing gay about blow jobs, M,” Wrench teased. He was smiling beneath the mask as he wrapped his arm around the hipster’s waist while they walked. When they arrived, Wrench reluctantly pulled away and pulled his phone out to quickly open the door, but the second he walked in, he froze. An icy dread washing over him.

“Reggie, is that you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 already, I'm on a roll. I hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading. More soon!


	8. Chapter 8

“Reggie, is that you?”

Wrench was frozen. He’d been dreading this day since he’d run away from home, but after eight years he’d stopped thinking it was going to happen. His brain had shut down, not comprehending what he was seeing, _who_ he was seeing.

“No,” he said. “No.” He shook his head and turned away. “Marcus, let’s go.”

Marcus frowned, looking at the woman before turning to Wrench. “Wrench, who is she?”

“No one.”

The woman was average height with bright brown eyes and the same ashy hair as Wrench, but the similarities ended there. Her skin was tanned and ink free and her clothing was far too rich for Wrench’s taste. “Wrench? Is that what you go by now?”

Wrench let out his breath slowly, not realizing he’d been holding it. Something about hearing his name from her mouth seemed to snap him out of the fog of denial he was in. “What are you doing here?” he said flatly. His mask was blank as he glared at her.

“I am your sister, do I need a reason to visit?”

“You aren’t my sister,” Wrench replied. “And you aren’t part of my life so just leave.”

“No, I haven’t seen you in years,” she replied. “Can’t we just grab lunch and talk like adults?”

“No.”

“Reg—”

“Don’t call me that.”

She sighed heavily. “Wrench, is it?”

“Don’t call me that either. How did you even find me?” Wrench’s fists were clenched at his sides, trying to control his shaking body.

Marcus had stayed quiet. He knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, but he wasn’t going to leave Wrench either. He could feel the waves of anxiety coming from the anarchist so he moved closer to him, resting his hand on Wrench’s lower back.

Wrench was tense, his jaw aching from how hard he was clenching it, but he was grateful for Marcus’s support even if it did little to relax him.

“We hired a private investigator shortly after you left. You know we couldn’t go to the cops. Though, even with Blume’s help, we couldn’t find a trace of you. At least not until the FBI did thanks to Blume.” She took a step towards Wrench, but the anarchist stepped back.

“Why?”

“Who is your friend?” she asked, changing the subject.

“My _boyfriend_ is none of your business,” Wrench said. “Look, I don’t know what you want and I don’t care. You need to leave now.” Wrench was shaking. He wanted to run, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to just run. The comfort that was his garage, his safe space, was now shattered. He felt trapped. His nails were biting into his palms.

“Boyfriend?” She looked Marcus up and down. “Well since he isn’t going to introduce us… I’m Mia.” She stepped forward and held her hand out for Marcus to shake.

“Look, no offense, but if Wrench doesn’t want you here, maybe you should leave,” Marcus said, refusing her hand. He looked over at the anarchist who wasn’t looking at either of them. Wrench looked so tense, Marcus was afraid he’d snap.

Mia sighed and looked at her brother. “Mom is sick, Reginald. I wish you’d take off that mask and talk to me like an adult.”

“And you expect me to care why?” Wrench replied. His nerves were wearing thin, but he’d be damned if he gave his sister the satisfaction of seeing him break.

“Because Blume was paying her medical bills until you took them down. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Marcus looked at Wrench, his brow furrowing. He knew Wrench had hated the company just as much as he had, but he never knew why exactly.

“Why are you here?” Wrench spat. His anxiety flaring and he felt sick. He leaned heavily against a table for support.

“Mom is sick, Reggie. Don’t you want to see her?” Mia asked, a frown pulling at her face.

“No.”

“Is that anyway to treat your mother?”

“How about how she treated me?” Wrench snapped.

“Will you take that silly mask off and talk to me?”

“No.”

Marcus took one look at his friend and knew he had to do something. He moved in front of the anarchist protectively. “I’m sorry, but you need to leave.”

Mia looked at Marcus in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t know your name and this is family business.”

“Blood doesn’t mean family,” Marcus replied.

 “He’s more family than you will ever be,” Wrench said.

“How can _he_ be family?!”

“GET THE FUCK OUT,” Wrench hollered, his hands balled into fists that shook at his sides. He’d had it. He was going to be sick. “JUST GET THE FUCK OUT NOW.”

“Fine, but I will give you two days. If I don’t hear from you by then, I will go to the police,” Mia said. “Nice to meet you… whoever you are.” She’d turned to address Marcus when she spoke, but the smile seemed forced. She turned and left promptly.

Wrench held himself together just long enough for the door to slam shut behind his sister. The second she was gone he ran across the room, tearing his mask off just in time. His entire body was shaking as he emptied the contents of his stomach violently into the sink.

“Wrench!” Marcus rushed to the anarchist’s side. He rest his hand on Wrench’s back.

The anarchist leaned heavily against the metal sink, his eyes closed, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His head hung down, refusing to look at the hipster. “Go.”

“What?”

“Just go, I need… I need to be alone.”

Marcus frowned. He didn’t want to leave his friend in the condition he was in. “Wrench…”

“Just fucking go,” Wrench growled, his voice harsh from vomiting. He turned and sank to the floor, his head in his hands. “Now,” his voice had grown quieter, but he meant it, he wanted to be left alone.

The hipster sighed. He didn’t want to leave, not now, but if Wrench didn’t want him there, he didn’t want to anger the other either. “I’ll be back at the apartment, alright? Call me if you need anything and I will come, alright?”

“Go,” Wrench said, shaking. He didn’t want to push Marcus away, but he didn’t want Marcus to see the mess that was his life. “FUCK, GET THE HELL OUT!”

Marcus flinched. “Alright,” he got to his feet and headed to the door. He hesitated, looking back at the anarchist, but Wrench hadn’t moved a muscle. It tore him up to leave, but he didn’t want to suffocate the anarchist either. So he went.

Wrench was falling apart and he didn’t want Marcus to see it. His entire body was shaking, he was in shock. It had been eight years, eight fucking years since he’d left home. Eight years since he’d left his family behind and made a new life for himself. And now they had found him.

He had no choice now, he’d have to leave and he only had two days to say goodbye.

 

***

 

It was well past midnight when Marcus finally heard from Wrench. The anarchist had glamorously crashed through his front door. He was so drunk, Marcus didn’t even know how he’d made it there in the first place. Marcus had leapt to his feet, startled by the intrusion, but relaxed when he saw Wrench clinging to the wall for support.

The anarchist was desperately trying to get his shoes off, but fell onto his side in the process. He let out an obnoxious laugh, unable to push himself up.

Marcus sighed and walked over to the drunken man. He closed the door before helping Wrench to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“I don’t want to!” the anarchist drunkenly slurred, clinging to Marcus. “Ooo, are we going to get naked?” A winking face flashed across his mask.

“You’re drunk,” Marcus replied flatly. He helped Wrench to sit on his bed before he knelt down and removed the anarchist’s shoes.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Marcus replied, but he didn’t sound very convincing. He stood back up once he had the tattooed man’s shoes off. He took Wrench’s vest off and threw it over his desk chair. He wasn’t mad, but he couldn’t understand what the punk was going through either.

“Yes, you are,” Wrench mumbled, laying down on the bed.

“No, I just wish you’d let me help you,” Marcus said softly. “Can I take your mask off?”

“Why?”

“You’re drunk, I don’t want you to vomit in it.”

“Fine…”

Marcus reached for the anarchist’s mask. He saw Wrench tense up, but he didn’t try and stop the hipster so Marcus slowly pulled it off and set it on the bedside table. He brushed his fingers lightly over Wrench’s cheek.

Wrench closed his hand over Marcus’s, though his eyes were adverted. “Stay.”

The anarchist had spoken so quietly, Marcus wasn’t sure he’d heard Wrench at first. He smiled softly and climbed in bed with the tattooed man.

Wrench rolled onto his side and rest his head on the hipster’s chest, his arms wrapping tight around Marcus. He was content just to lie there, enjoying the silence between them, but Marcus had other plans.

“Can I ask you something?” Marcus wrapped his arms around the anarchist.

“Hm?”

“Is your family the reason you hate Blume so much?”

Wrench didn’t respond at first, but he sighed and sat up. “My father was on retainer as their lawyer. I don’t know if Douchesan was part of it, but he must have if he contacted my family. My father was pretty well acquainted with their board. Can’t tell you how many times I was the topic of severe disappointment and ridicule.”

Marcus frowned. “I’m sorry.”

The anarchist scowled and looked away. “My two favourite words. Why do people always say sorry when they’ve done nothing wrong.” He shook his head. “Either way he used his power at Blume to spy on me. Hence my paranoia.” He pointed at his mask. “Not sure why Dusan let me go, but evidently he told my family.” He laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The alcohol was working its way through his system.

“Good thing he’s rotting in jail now.”

“Not really rotting when he has enough money to sit comfortably.”

“So we’ll hack his bank account.”

Wrench smiled, but only slightly. He fell silent for a while, enjoying the company of the man beside him, savouring it before he finally had the courage to bring up what he needed to say. “I have to leave,” Wrench mumbled. He was drunk, but not drunk enough to explain why. He never wanted Marcus to hear that part of himself. He didn’t want anyone to hear it. He sighed heavily.

“No, you don’t. We’ve fended off cops before, we’ll do it again. You’re safe here, Wrench, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You can’t fix everything this time, Marcus.”

“So you’re just going to run away then? Leave me just like that?”

“It’s not about you. What choice do I have?”

“Of course it fucking is!”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Wrench sat up in bed. He threw his legs over the side and started pulling his shoes back on. “I can’t fucking do this. I can’t fucking do relationships. I just can’t.”

“Wrench, stop. What does your sister have on you? We’re hackers, man. Think this through.” Marcus said up.

“It doesn’t matter.” Wrench stood up and put his mask back on before he reached for his vest, but Marcus caught his arm.

“Wrench.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Marcus.”

“Yes, it does. You matter to me, man.”

Wrench was shaking. He closed his eyes beneath the mask and looked away from Marcus. “Let go of me, M. I am sorry to get you mixed up in all of this shit, but you have to let me go.”

“Like hell I do. Tell me what she has on you.”

The anarchist couldn’t take it any longer. He tugged his arm back and pulled on his vest. “Just forget about me.”

“Wrench.”

“I KILLED MY FUCKING FATHER, OKAY?!”

The room had fallen silent. Wrench could hear the blood racing in his ears and he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He didn’t want to see whatever look Marcus was probably giving him so he did what he did best.

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp! Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading and as always, more soon!


	9. Chapter 9

Marcus rushed out of the room and chased after Wrench. He wasn’t letting him get away that easily. He caught up to the anarchist just as he reached the door and he grabbed the punk’s wrist. “Wrench, wait!”

“Why?”

“Because from what you told me, your father deserved it. Because I don’t want to lose you and I am not going to let your family control your life,” Marcus said. “Stay. Don’t make any rash decisions. At least not tonight.”

Wrench slowly turned towards Marcus. “I can’t stay.”

“They were looking for you, not me. Your sister doesn’t even know my name. You are safe here,” Marcus said, pulling the reluctant anarchist closer towards him. “At least sober up.”

Wrench knew he shouldn’t stay. He knew he needed to get out and spare Marcus, but he couldn’t bring himself to. At least not in that moment. He was weak when it came to the hipster and he caved easily. He let Marcus lead him back to the bedroom. “I have sobered up. Mostly.”

“Just stay, okay?” Marcus asked, squeezing Wrench’s hand before he pulled away and moved across the room. He didn’t know what he could do for Wrench, but he hated seeing the people he cared about in pain. He had to at least try.

Wrench’s mask was blank as he watched the hipster. He’d wanted Marcus for so long and now he had him. And Marcus knew the darkest parts of him and hadn’t turned away. Instead, the hipster had chased him through the apartment and brought him back. No one had ever gone out of their way to do anything for Wrench the way Marcus did.

The anarchist lifted a hand and it hovered over his mask. His mind was a whirl of racing thoughts, but he slowly pulled off his mask, fighting back the anxiety inside himself. He always felt anxious without it, but for the first time it felt odd keeping it on. He didn’t have anything to hide from Marcus anymore and with it, he was still hiding. For the first time, he wanted someone to see him.

“Wrench?” Marcus looked at the anarchist curiously.

The punk crossed the room, gently setting his mask on the desk before he turned towards the hipster. He cupped Marcus’s face in his hands, his fingers resting beneath the other’s ears as his thumbs brushed over Marcus’s cheeks. He looked into the hipster’s eyes for a moment, biting his lip before sealing the distance between their lips.

Marcus was caught off guard in Wrench’s eyes, but he recovered quickly when the anarchist’s lips touched his. He wrapped his arms tightly around Wrench and returned the kiss. He hadn’t expected Wrench to remove his mask let alone be kissing him right now. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Thank you,” Wrench mumbled in between the kiss. He slid his hands down over Marcus’s chest.

“For what?” Marcus replied, resting his forehead gently against Wrench’s.

“Everything,” Wrench replied before he leaned in, kissing Marcus again. He let his lips linger, moving slowly against Marcus’s. The emotions inside him stirred, drowning out the anxiety and racing thoughts. He wanted Marcus. He wanted to be with Marcus. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate fuelled by the punk’s emotions and his hands slowly began to wander on their own accord.

Marcus’s hand found its way into Wrench’s hair, resting at the back of the punk’s neck. His other hand resting on the anarchist’s lower back. He deepened the kiss, holding Wrench closer to him. His tongue and teeth worked at Wrench’s lower lip.

Wrench pushed Marcus down to sit on the edge of the bed. He straddled the hipster’s lap and leaned down, crushing his lips to the other’s. And Marcus’s hands were on his hips and those lips responding to his. He broke the kiss and tugged the hipster’s shirt up.

Marcus lifted his arms, letting the punk remove his shirt before he pushed Wrench’s vest off. The heavy fabric crashed to the floor loudly, but unnoticed. His pulse was racing. He wanted this, wanted Wrench, but he had to stop. If alcohol was still fuelling this…

The punk kissed up Marcus’s neck, his hands roaming over other’s chest. He could feel the hipster’s muscles moving beneath his touch. It wasn’t just sex for him then, it was something else. Something more, a burning need to be with Marcus and forget everything, but the two of them because nothing else mattered.

“Wait,” Marcus mumbled, biting his lip. He didn’t want Wrench to stop as the heated tendrils of arousal stirred inside him.

“Did I do—”

“No, no, it isn’t you. But… Just… Are you sure?” Marcus asked. “I just—”

“I want this,” Wrench interrupted. “I want you.” He was never good with words that weren’t filled with colourful profanity or perverted comments. He still didn’t know how to deal with his own feelings, but he knew he wanted Marcus. He did want to forget about his problems, but that wasn’t why he wanted Marcus. It was so much more than that and it frustrated him not knowing how to explain it. “I can’t explain it, I just… I need you.”

Marcus lifted a hand, his fingers brushing Wrench’s cheek. He could tell the punk wasn’t comfortable talking, but he could see it wasn’t the alcohol fuelling his boyfriend either. He saw the emotion flicker in Wrench’s eyes and he knew because he felt it too. “I need you too.”

Wrench crushed his lips to Marcus’s. His fingers danced down over Marcus’s stomach, the muscles quivering under his touch. He popped the button on the hipster’s pants and dragged the zipper down. He pushed Marcus down onto the bed before he tugged his hoodie off and tossed it aside.

The hipster ran his hands up Wrench’s sides inch by inch as it was revealed. He grabbed the punk by the hips and flipped them over, pining his boyfriend to the bed as his lips found Wrench’s again.

But the kiss didn’t last as Wrench rolled them over, his lips moving down along the hipster’s clavicle and chest. His hands tugged and pushed his boyfriend’s pants down. And it was all a blur, a hurried blur of stripped clothes and tangled sheets, heat and passion, but Wrench didn’t care, he’d just wanted Marcus. Sex had never used to mean anything to Wrench, not like it did with Marcus. It wasn’t just physical arousal, but emotional as well. He couldn’t put it into words so he let his actions do the talking.

They had paused just long enough to grab a condom and the lube, but then Marcus was inside of him and he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think at all. The anxiety, the racing thoughts, they were gone and there was only Marcus. He gripped the edge of the bed, pushing desperately back onto the hipster.

Marcus kissed up Wrench’s back, his hips moving quickly into the anarchist’s tight heat. His hands gripped the anarchist’s hips, partially pulling the punk onto his cock as he moved. He kissed up Wrench’s neck and nipped at his ear.

“Fuck, fuck,” Wrench moaned, shuddering. He shifted his weight onto one arm and moved his hand down to his own length, He was trembling as pleasure rolled through him in waves, his toes curling every time the hipster brushed his prostate.

“I want to see your face,” Marcus replied, nipping at the punk’s neck. “Please.”

Wrench wasn’t used to having his mask off nor to someone actually wanting to see his face, but he trusted the hipster. He wouldn’t have left it across the room if he hadn’t. Still he hesitated.

“I want to kiss you,” Marcus replied, his breath ghosted over Wrench’s ear and the anarchist shuddered.

“Stop,” Wrench groaned out, not really wanting to, but he wanted to please Marcus. When Marcus’s hips slowed, the punk pulled away and turned onto his back. He slid his leg around the hipster’s waist.

Marcus smiled and caught the anarchist’s lips in a heated kiss as he pushed back inside Wrench, quickly restarting his earlier pace. His hands slid up the punk’s slim sides before dipping back down to Wrench’s hips.

Wrench threw his arms around the hipster’s neck, his lips locked with Marcus’s. Everything melted away again. He forgot about his family and the mask lying across the room. He forgot about everything in that moment because all that mattered was him and Marcus.

Marcus broke the kiss and tentatively looked into Wrench’s eyes. He was afraid of making the hipster uncomfortable, but Wrench held his gaze briefly before the punk’s eyes fluttered shut, a groan pulled from his lips.

Wrench’s hands moved down Marcus’s back underneath the hipster’s arms. He bit his lip, torso arching lightly up from the bed. The sheets fell around them in a tangled mess and he just barely registered they were laying on the edge.

The hipster’s hips continued their pace, but he could feel the building pressure in his lower abdomen, the growing pleasurable heat that was threatening to give out. He was so close. His hand slipped between them, his fingers curling around Wrench’s length.

The punk moaned loudly. His arms were hooked under Marcus’s arms, holding onto the hipster’s shoulders. His nails bit into the skin as he slipped over the edge quickly. He’d been so close, Marcus’s touch had been all he needed. His body was flooded with the pleasure of release, his back arched slightly, eyes shut. He groaned Marcus’s name.

Marcus felt himself slipping and when Wrench clenched around him he couldn’t hold back any longer. He let out a loud groan as he came, releasing into the condom. His hips stiffened, body trembling as the waves of pleasure flooded through him.

Wrench continued moving, helping Marcus until they were both spent and his body was too overly sensitive. He collapsed back onto the bed with Marcus on top of him. He wrapped his arms loosely around Marcus, both of them trying to catch their breath, pulses still racing.

The hipster let out a content hum, face buried in the punk’s neck. He relaxed, resting there as they both slowly came down from the high of release, but he reluctantly pulled away, carefully pulling out of the anarchist before he disposed of the condom. He settled down beside Wrench, facing the punk on his side.

Wrench rolled onto his side to look at the hipster. He rest his forehead against the hipster’s, his arm lightly thrown over Marcus’s hip. “You know, M… cuddling is gay.”

Marcus snorted. “You like it.”

A small smile tugged at Wrench’s lips. He was content for the moment, not a single worry about his impending problems. Still, he could feel the anxiety gnawing at him just around the edges. “If you tell anyone I might have to hurt you,” he joked.

The hipster laughed. “I wouldn’t want to destroy your image.”

Wrench chuckled softly and brushed his lips against the hipster’s before they changed positions. He rest his head on Marcus’s chest when the other had laid on his back. “Because only you get to see through my bullshit.”

“It’s your business to tell, I would never say anything.”

Wrench hummed contentedly, his head resting on Marcus’s chest as the hipster’s hand moved slowly through his hair. They lay in a content silence and Wrench’s eyes fell shut as he listened to the steady beat of Marcus’s heart.

He never thought he would be in such a situation. Never through he would be comfortable enough to take his mask off around anyone let alone curl up with them in bed. He sighed softly. It felt nice, but he couldn’t get rid of the knot of guilt in his chest, it was beginning to grow.

“Are you alright?” Marcus asked softly.

Wrench listened to the rumble of speech in Marcus’s chest. “Fine,” he lied.

Marcus lifted his head, kissing the top of Wrench’s. “Tired?”

“A little,” the anarchist replied, the knot turned into a dull ache. He’d wanted to run earlier, wanted to get away from his family, but he knew he couldn’t, not anymore. His sister knew of Marcus and if they had a PI it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who Marcus was. If Wrench left, his family would just make trouble for the hipster and Wrench couldn’t let that happen. But if Wrench stayed… he’d wind up in jail.

Wrench was out of options. All he could do was go back to them, to the family he’d rejected. It was the only way to protect Marcus. At least until he found out what they had on him, but he couldn’t tell Marcus.

He had no idea how long he’d been laying there. Marcus had long since fallen asleep, but he couldn’t sleep himself. He’d laid there for what felt like hours in Marcus’s arms, watching his boyfriend sleep, but he knew it was time. He had to leave now. He’d just wanted one last good memory to get him through what he had to do.

Carefully, he slipped from Marcus’s arms and silently pulled his clothes back on. Once he was dressed, his mask back in place, he sat down at Marcus’s desk. He had so many things to say to the other man, but none of them seemed good enough so he scribbled down a quick note and left it sitting on the pillow, knowing Marcus would find it when he woke.

He took one last look at the hipster, lingering in the doorway. He really didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t stay. So he turned and slipped out.

 

_Marcus,_

_I have spent years running and only looking out for myself. I never let anyone in like I let you in and you’ve changed me. I care too much for you to let you be tied up with my bullshit so I’ve decided to go back to my family. I don’t want you going down for my mistakes and I have to try and fix this. You give me strength, M. Thank you. You’re a good man. You deserve better._

_\--Wrench_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not getting this out as soon as I promised! Been a rough week @_@ But I'm here! I have a birthday fic coming soon too. But I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Marcus stretched out in bed the next morning. He’d woken up far too early, at least it felt like it was too early to him. He didn’t want to open his eyes let alone get out of bed yet, so instead he blindly rolled over. He reached out with his arms, instantly seeking the warm comfort of the punk beside him, but they were met with cold sheets instead.

He frowned and slowly opened his eyes. “Wrench?” He sat up and stretched again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He figured the punk was just in the shower and he was about to join him when he saw the note on the pillow.

 

_Marcus,_

_I have spent years running and only looking out for myself. I never let anyone in like I let you in and you’ve changed me. I care too much for you to let you be tied up with my bullshit so I’ve decided to go back to my family. I don’t want you going down for my mistakes and I have to try and fix this. You give me strength, M. Thank you. You’re a good man. You deserve better._

_—Wrench_

 

Marcus sat there blankly for a moment staring at the piece of paper. He was stunned, he didn’t know what to think. Because of Marcus, Wrench went back to the people who’d beat and abused him. Wrench wanted to run and Marcus was selfish. Now Wrench was gone and who knew what was happening to him.

He quickly snatched his phone and tried to call the punk, but it went straight to voice mail without a ring. He was beginning to get nervous. If Wrench had left while Marcus was still asleep, there was no telling how far the anarchist could have gotten already. He had to stop him.

He jumped up and ran around the room, pulling on his clothes as fast as humanly possible. He was so preoccupied he’d nearly forgotten his shoes while running out of the apartment. He had to keep himself moving or he’d start to panic.

Marcus commandeered a motorcycle parked down the street and took off, careening towards the anarchist’s garage. If he had any luck, Wrench would still be there. He hoped. He dumped the bike outside the door and rushed in before the door had fully opened.

“Wrench?”

Empty.

He rest his hands on his head and swore loudly. He’d been fighting the rising panic and he was starting to lose. The anarchist’s laptop was gone and Wrench was nowhere to be found. He tugged his phone out and tried to call the punk again, but got nothing, just the same voice mail.

He didn’t know what to do. It was possible Wrench was still in the city, but with his phone off, Marcus wasn’t going to be able to track him. He swore again and did the only other thing he could think of, he called Sitara.

 “Hey, Marcus,” Sitara said, answering after a couple rings.

“Is Wrench there?” Marcus blurted out.

“Um, no. Kind of figured he was with you since you two are always attached at the hip. Is something wrong?” she asked. “If you two got into a fight, just bring him some explosives, he’ll get over it.”

“No, it’s…” He didn’t know what to say, his anxiousness was beginning to register in his voice and Sitara must have heard it.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Wrench,” Marcus started, not sure how to word what he wanted to say. He knew the punk wouldn’t like Marcus talking about his past, he’d put his confidence in him and Marcus wasn’t about to betray that. He sighed.

“Did he get arrested? What did he blow up this time…” Sitara replied.

“No, can we meet up away from the others? I’ll explain as best I can, just meet me at Wrench’s garage. I need your help.”

“Alright, see you soon.”

 

 

“If it was his choice, should we really try and go after him?”

“Of course we should! You don’t know what he’s told me, Sitara. I can’t let him do this, at least not alone.” Marcus was digging through piles of Wrench’s stuff, searching for something, anything that would tell him where the punk could have gone. He’d filled Sitara in as much as he could without giving away anything which admittedly wasn’t a lot.

“If his phone is off, he doesn’t want to be found.” Sitara sighed, she wanted to help, but she didn’t know how.

“Fuck!” Marcus shouted, sending a pile of car parts crashing to the floor. He gripped the edge of the table, trying to calm himself down. “He’s doing this for me. He thinks he needs to protect me. I have to do something.”

“Okay, we’ll try and find him, but we need to get the other—”

“No, just us.”

“Alright, where do we start?”

Marcus’s foot was taping on the floor, his nerves channelled into anxious movements. He scratched the back of his head. “I know his sister’s name and we know his name is Reginald. I also know his father died roughly eight years ago.”

“That’s good. We can search obituaries online using their names. It will at least give us a location to look in. Then you can go out and do your thing,” Sitara said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“But we have to keep this between us, Wrench isn’t going to be happy if he knows I told you anything,” Marcus said. “I just need to know he’s safe.”

Sitara looked at the hipster quizzically. She wanted to know what could be so bad, but she wasn’t going to ask. “I won’t tell. Don’t worry, Marcus, we’ll find him.”

“Can you start looking? I have one place I need to look. His sister’s name is Mia,” Marcus said, backing up towards the door.

“Yeah, I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks,” Marcus replied before slipping out of the garage.

 

***

 

Wrench didn’t even have enough strength to feel anxious when he arrived at the steps of his old home in a wealthy, gated community in Fremont. Honestly, Wrench couldn’t stand the thought of being in such a high-class neighbourhood. The people were all fake pretending they cared about society while joining their stupid yoga groups and drinking overpriced coffee all the while looking down on people of lesser wellbeing. And his family was the worst, keeping all their secrets buried under an expensive rug in a two story, near-mansion sized expanse of a house. He was quite content to live in his garage.

Or with Marcus…

A stab of guilt pierced his chest at the thought of the hipster. Why was he doing this again? If he made it back from this, he wasn’t even sure Marcus would ever talk to him again. Wrench swallowed the knot in his throat and knocked.

He was happy he’d thought to black out the cameras in the vicinity. He’d already needed to jump the fence to get past the gate, he didn’t need the cameras watching him too. He didn’t want to draw more attention from the nosy residents than he needed to.

“Reginald, I’m so glad you came!” Mia said, overly cheerful when she threw open the large, oak door.

“Did I have a choice?” Wrench replied, bitterly. His mask was blank as he tried to keep his own emotions buried.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. Come in, come in! And take that mask off, we’re family.” She sounded so chipper, but to Wrench it ground down on his already thin nerves. She stepped aside to let the punk in.

Wrench brushed past her. “No. Can we just cut to it? What the hell do you want?”

“Reggie?”

The anarchist froze, an icy coil of fear curling around his heart. He slowly turned to see his mother ambling into the room with the help of a cane. For a woman in her early forties she looked pale and sick with near translucent skin and tired eyes. For a fleeting moment, Wrench was happy to see karma was on his side, but then he instantly regretted the thought for even when she abused him, she still took care of him afterward.

“It’s so good to see you. Why don’t you uncover that face of yours? It’s been so long, I want to see you properly,” she said, approaching the punk slowly.

“You know why,” he replied.

Mia had closed the door and now moved to their mother’s side, helping the woman walk.

“We’re family. I have missed my son,” she said quietly and Wrench almost believed her.

“What do you both want from me? I have another life now, a better one where people actually give a f—”

“Language!” their mother chastised, but she laughed softly after. “You always did have such a colourful tongue.”

“He’s talking about his boyfriend, mom. He’s still gay,” Mia added.

“So what? I’ve spent too much time living with the damage this _‘family’_ instilled in my head.” Quotes flashed on his mask before changing to angry slash marks. “You can’t just burn the gay away.”

“Alright, enough. Both of you. We will discuss your lifestyle later. I am just happy to have my son back,” their mother said. “Go get settled in, dinner will be served shortly and we can catch up over a nice meal.”

“I don’t want to get settled in. I want to know why you want me here so badly,” Wrench said, his nerves were about to snap. He was feeling trapped again and the urge to run stirred inside him. He knew he should have ran.

His mother moved close to him. “Will you let me see your face,” she said, standing right before the punk. She lifted a hand, wanting to touch the mask, but instead the frail thing just hovered there, waiting.

“Will you let me go?”

“Just let me see your face.”

Wrench shifted uncomfortably, wanting to move away. “No.”

“Reginald, you destroyed this family. Killed your father and left me weak. The least you can do is let me see your face,” his mother said sternly.

Wrench frowned, guilt surfacing in him once again. He knew he shouldn’t. If anyone was guilty, surely it was her. All the mental abuse he’d gone through and yet he fell for it over and over again. He was beginning to feel nauseous.

“Please, Reggie?”

“I have to go to the bathroom!” he blurted out, changing the subject. He had to get away. “So if you don’t mind, going to go do that.”

“Reggie!”

But Wrench wasn’t listening. He fled from the room instantly and promptly locked himself in the bathroom. He was expecting it to be hard, but his nerves were already fried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. There was more dialogue this time. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

Wrench couldn’t sleep, though given his current location, that wasn’t much of a surprise. He needed a stiff drink, or twenty. His nerves were fried, but he certainly wasn’t going to find any alcohol in his old room. He was surrounded by school books and computer parts. Even at 16, Wrench had been interested with electronics and his family hadn’t bothered to clean up the mess of torn apart appliances.

He signed, if he wanted a drink he’d have to leave the room. Maybe it would be easier to tolerate his family if he was drunk. He’d been avoiding them. He’d hid in the bathroom earlier to avoid dinner and then promptly shut himself in his old bedroom the second the coast was clear. It was well past midnight now, surely the others had gone to bed…

He pushed himself off the bed and dragged himself to the door where he hesitated. Listening for any signs of life outside his door. When he was sure no one was awake, he slipped out of his room and quietly walked down the hall.

It was a strange thing being back in the house he grew up in. He’d left eight years ago vowing to never look back, but there he was of his own free will, moving down the wooden halls lined with family portraits. Though of course there were none of him. Not that he cared, it just made his suspicions raise. He’d never been a part of the family before, why did they suddenly want him there now?

Wrench shook off the thoughts as he stopped before a wooden door. So much wood. He distinctly remembered this one once being scorched black and yet there it was, brand new. He tentatively pushed the door open into what was once his father’s study and hesitantly moved inside.

The memories stirred inside him. He could practically feel the heat of the flames licking his skin as he fled the room years ago. In a fit of rage, he’d set his father’s books on fire and the whole room had gone up in flames. He’d had no idea his father was trapped inside until the firemen has put out the flames. It had been an accident, but he hadn’t expected anyone to believe that.

It was odd being back in the room his father had died in. His mother must have had it rebuilt. There was even a new copy of those stupid law books. Wrench had never really regretted what he’d done, but he was beginning to feel unnerved.

“I see you’ve found your father’s study. I’ve had it rebuilt.”

Wrench spun so fast it was a miracle he hadn’t tripped over his own feet. “Playing the role of the grieving widow?”

“I am a widow,” his mother replied, moving towards Wrench.

“Why do you want me here then?” he said, feeling drained.

“Can’t I just want to see my own son?”

“No.”

“Damn it, Reginald! You killed my husband, did you just think it was going to go away?” She sighed and shook her head. “You killed my husband and then just left. Believe it or not, you broke my heart, Reggie. I’ve missed you.”

“So you brought me here to turn me in?” Wrench scowled. “Don’t pretend you missed me. Where were you every time that man was beating me? Where were you when he slammed me so hard into the mirror it shattered and cut me up? You didn’t miss me, you brought me here to turn me in.”

“Of course I missed you!” she said, her voice softening. “How can you say that? You’re my flesh and blood.” She reached up to touch his mask, but Wrench flinched away. “Honey, I am so sorry for what that man did to you. I was afraid of him too.”

“Liar,” Wrench said, but it lacked the conviction of his earlier protest. He was pressing himself back against the desk as he tried to move away from her.

“What will it take for you to trust me? I have done a lot of shameful things, but so have you and I have forgiven you,” she said. “Please let me see your face.”

Wrench closed his eyes beneath the mask as his mother moved so close she was practically pinning him there. He could have easily overpowered her, but his feet were frozen in place. His whole body was frozen and he felt powerless.

She took his lack of response as permission and lifted her hand. He wanted to cringe away, but he didn’t stop her from removing his mask. “My poor boy.”

“Take a good look,” he said quietly. “Because you won’t see it again.

She turned away from him, seemingly studying the mask as she moved away. “Did you make this? You always were so talented.”

“Yes and you can give it back now,” Wrench replied. He clenched his fists at his sides to stop himself from shaking.

“I will,” his mother replied. She quickly placed the mask in the opened safe and shut the door before Wrench could even protest let alone move to stop her.

“What the fuck!” Wrench blurted out, suddenly able to move.

“You can have it back when I can trust you,” she replied. “I’m doing it for your own good. Good night, Reggie.”

“Where the fuck are you going? Open this damn safe!” Wrench shouted after her, but the door closed behind her with a loud bang leaving him to stand there in disbelief. It had just gotten a lot more complicated

 

***

 

“Marcus, I think I’ve found something,” Sitara’s voice came through the hipster’s earbuds.

“What is it?” he replied, hurriedly pulling the bike over on the side of the road to take the call. He’d been racing around the city trying to stir up leads for any information that would help, but Wrench was excellent at hiding.

“I found an obit that mentions a gated community in Fremont,” Sitara replied.

“Great, I’ll head there n—”

“Wait, Marcus, it gets worse…”

“How?”

“I found a news article on his father’s passing. His family is being investigated for foul play. Did you know his father’s body was pulled out of a fire? They did an autopsy on him and found the cause of death was multiple stab wounds to the back. The fire was a cover up.”

“Yes, I knew in lesser words,” Marcus replied.

“Did he –”

“This is Wrench we’re talking about. He is nothing if not loyal and he’s in trouble. Don’t pass judgement, Sitara, you don’t know the whole story.” Marcus hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to let anyone assume things when Wrench wasn’t there to defend himself.

“I wasn’t going to. I am merely suggesting you be careful. You don’t know what his family is capable of,” she said.

“Right, sorry Si. I’m just… worried.”

“So am I. Go get him, Marcus. Just make sure you both come back in one piece.”

“I might have to punch him for leaving in the first place. Thanks for the help.”

 

 

It had taken Marcus a little over 30 minutes to reach the gated community. Of course he had been speeding on a motorbike. His only hope was that Wrench was still there. He pulled up to the gate, but it was so late, he knew the security guard wasn’t going to let him in.

“Can I help you?” the guard asked, looking the hipster over. He was clearly sizing Marcus up.

Marcus pulled up to the guard booth slowly and shut the bike off. “Hey man, I’m friends with Wre—ginald. He told me he was headed this way to visit his sick mother.”

The guard looked at him with clear disbelief on his face. “It’s a little late for a house call, don’t you think?”

“Is he here? They’re expecting me,” Marcus lied. He climbed off the bike and dropped the kickstand.

“Sir, remain on your vehicle.”

“Can’t you just let me in, man? It’s late, but I had to wait until I got out of work to head down,” Marcus asked, crossing his arms.

“I will call them. Please get back on your vehicle,” the guard said, turning away from Marcus.

Marcus moved the second the man turned away. He pushed into the booth and wrapped the string of his Thunderball around the man’s neck and pulled tight. The man fought, but he’d underestimated Marcus’s strength, because the harder he fought, the quicker he lost consciousness and the hipster carefully slid the man to the floor. He put his weapon back before moving over towards the small monitors. His best bet of finding the correct house was going through the security cameras and there was only one that was down. Marcus had a feeling that was where he’d find Wrench.

He quickly ditched the bike where he could retrieve it later and snuck around the fence until he found a place he could get in, not far from where he suspected Wrench to be, the fence was sinking in and shorter than the rest. He hoisted himself up and climbed over the iron bars before dropping himself inside. It felt more like a prison of nice homes rather than a gated community.

He moved quietly, slipping through the street until he found a ctOS box and for once he was grateful to find it. He could tell it had been tampered with which meant he was definitely in the right place. He quickly hacked in and set to work, searching the homes for his anarchist boyfriend. It didn’t take long at all. He wasn’t even sure how Wrench hadn’t noticed. He slipped in on a security camera hidden on a bookshelf.

The man in question was sitting on the floor in front of a desk, legs drawn up to his chest and hands covering his face, but Marcus knew the rivet covered punk anywhere. He’d found him, now he just had to get him out.

He hacked into an alarm clock in the corner, setting off a quiet alarm which got Wrench’s attention. The punk jumped, startled by the noise, but his maskless face turned towards the noisy object. _“Marcus?”_

“I’m getting you out, Wrench,” Marcus mumbled to himself. He knew the punk couldn’t hear him, but his heart broke seeing him there. He needed to move fast. “Just hang on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soon! Thanks so much for continuing to read ^^


	12. Chapter 12

Wrench scowled at himself. An alarm clock goes off and his first thought was Marcus? The other man had no idea where he was, Marcus wasn’t saving him from this. It was stupid of him to even hope for that.

Still scowling, he climbed to his feet. He was sick of it. Sick of feeling sorry for himself all the time. Sick of letting people control him. Sick of feeling so weak. When did he get this way? When something went wrong he smashed it or blew it up, not sit on the floor hoping someone would save him from this crap. He put himself into this mess and he was going to get himself out of it. He had to find what his mother had on him.

He moved around to the other side of the desk and pulled out a drawer before emptying the contents onto the desk. There was nothing of use inside it; pens, staples, sticky notes, all stuff you’d expect to find in a desk. He set the drawer aside and set to work on the remaining three drawers, but each one was just as useless as the last; papers, folders, nothing.

There was a light tap on the window, but Wrench didn’t hear it as he felt under the desk, checking to see if anything was taped underneath. Maybe a combination for the safe, but there was nothing. He sighed, but the taping got louder and he jumped, turning around to check the window.

Marcus was standing outside, waiting.

A small smile tugged at Wrench’s lips before he could hide it and he shook his head as he moved towards the widow. He quickly unlatched it and pushed it up. “What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too. Can I come in?” Marcus asked.

“Yeah,” Wrench replied, holding his arm out for the other.

Marcus took Wrench’s hand and hoisted himself up through the window before pulling Wrench immediately into a tight embrace. “Don’t ever do that to me again, asshole,” he mumbled.

Wrench caught himself laughing lightly. He wrapped his arms back around Marcus. He couldn’t deny that he was happy to see the other man, but it was going to make things a lot more complicated. He pulled back. “You have to go.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I can’t.

“Wrench, I’m not leaving you here.”

Wrench sighed heavily. He couldn’t have this argument with Marcus in the room he’d killed his father in. He couldn’t believe it was happening to begin with. “I need to get out of this room.” He moved to the door without looking to see if Marcus was following him. He peered out into the hall, making sure it was clear before he fled back to his room.

Marcus remained close on the punk’s heels. He was stubbornly not leaving, at least not until he talked to Wrench. He waited until they were shut up in the anarchist’s room before he spoke again. “Why do you have to do this?”

Wrench turned to look at Marcus. “Because I don’t want to go to jail or pull you down with me. Which is why you have to go.”

“No.”

“Marcus…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Wrench. This mission you’re on is fucking stupid. I know you had a shitty past, but man, you aren’t alone in this anymore. You’ve got DedSec. You’ve got me.”

Wrench sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face again. “This isn’t me. This bourgeoisie bullshit. I do everything I can to separate myself from this shit and I didn’t want you to see me here.”

Marcus sat down beside the punk, throwing his arm around Wrench. “Shit, do you think I want to be here? I had to knock out a security guard to come save your ass, but I don’t associate you with these kinds of people. I’d get arrested just for being spotted.”

Wrench leaned against Marcus. “You knocked out a security guard to save me? I better call the cops before the neighbours do.”

“Man, shut up,” Marcus said, though he chuckled and Wrench smiled slightly. “So what are _we_ going to do?”

Wrench pulled away and laid down on the bed, one knee drawn up. “Find what she has on me. I don’t know what it could be.”

“I don’t know if you had to come here to do that,” Marcus replied, lying down beside Wrench.

“Hacking is one thing, but if my mother has real evidence of what I did…”

“Can I ask you how your father died?” Marcus asked.

“I told you, I killed him,” Wrench replied.

“Yes, but… how?”

Wrench lifted his head, looking over at Marcus with a scowl. “Why do you want to know that?”

“What happened?”

Wrench sat back up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his back to Marcus. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs. “I was so angry. I couldn’t take the fucking abuse anymore. I tried to run away that morning and he caught me. He kicked my ass and put me through a fucking mirror. So I was pissed. I went into his study and set his books on fire. I was an idiot kid. I didn’t know he was in the room. I still don’t know how I got in and out of there without seeing him.”

“Because you didn’t kill him, I think he was already dead.”

Wrench looked back at the other. “How can you say that? I set the fire.”

“Did you read any of the papers after that?”

“No, why? I ran. It’s not like the cops would understand, especially with Blume backing my family. I was a ‘rebellious teen.’” Wrench shook his head, looking down at his hands.

“The cause of your father’s death was multiple stab wounds to the back. You didn’t kill your father, just burned the evidence for whoever did.”

Wrench scowled, looking back at Marcus. “But who would…”

“Your mom has been lying to you. What evidence could she have?”

Wrench looked down again, closing his eyes. “I’m a fucking idiot. I let them manipulate me time and time again. I thought I was done with them and then they manipulate me again. How do I keep falling for this shit?”

Marcus sat up, pulling the punk back into his arms. “That doesn’t make you an idiot. It makes them the assholes for manipulating you.”

“Now I’m stuck.”

“No, you’re an expert with explosives. We’ll get your mask back and then get the fuck out of here.” Marcus smiled reassuringly. “Unless you have any other ideas on how to get into the safe?”

“I still can’t wrap my head around this whole thing. Why go through such lengths to get me back here? If there is no evidence, why does it matter?” Wrench was scowling again, he looked up at Marcus.

“White people bullshit?” Marcus added.

Wrench snorted and couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped. He covered his mouth and looked away. “Man, fuck you,” he said, but he was grinning when he looked back up at Marcus. He couldn’t deny that it felt better having Marcus there.

Marcus grinned. “Hey, we will get through this, starting with your mask. At least you know where that is.”

The punk leaned in, kissing Marcus. “Thanks Marcus.”

There was a light knock on the door followed by a soft voice interrupting them and Wrench swore under his breath. “Reggie, can I come in?”

Wrench jumped to his feet fast at the sound of his sister’s voice. “Shit, no!”

“I want to talk,” Mia said.

Wrench panickily looked at Marcus. “Stay here,” he whispered before crossing the room and pulling the door open a crack. “What?”

“Reg, seriously, I’m not going to bite,” she pushed into the room, catching the punk off guard. “I needed to talk—oh, you again.” Her eyes landed on Marcus, widening slightly in surprise.

“Yes, me again,” Marcus replied, standing up.

Wrench looked nervously into the hall to make sure his mother wasn’t near before he closed the door and leaned back against it. “Mia, you can’t say anything.”

“Relax, mom isn’t home. That’s why I came to apologise,” she said.

“Apologise? Fuck you,” Wrench said, he didn’t want to hear it. He crossed the room to stand beside Marcus. “You come into my life, unwelcome. You threaten me and Marcus, giving me no choice but to come back here and now you want to apologise?”

Mia flinched. “I know, but Reg, you aren’t the only one mom’s hurting here.”

“I’m sorry, did she not buy you a new fucking car for Christmas?”

“Reg—”

“Did you know I wasn’t the one who killed dad?”

“Reggie –”

“Did you?”

“Yes, okay? I knew! But you’re still the one who set that fire.”

“You’ve manipulated me my whole fucking life, I’m fucking done.” Wrench’s fists were clenched, body shaking, he was so angry. He took a step forward, but Marcus caught his wrist and he froze. “Let me go.”

“Think it through. Your mom is gone, we can get your mask from the safe and get the hell out of here now,” Marcus said.

“You can’t get into that safe,” Mia said, eyes widening.

Wrench froze. “You know about the safe?”

“Yes, but trust me, you don’t want to get in that safe,” Mia said.

“I want my mask back,” Wrench replied coldly.

“I’ll help you get it back, alright? Just… come have breakfast with me. Both of you. We got off on the wrong foot and I’d like to apologise,” Mia said. “Then I’ll help you get your mask back.”

Wrench looked at Marcus for help. If he responded now he was afraid he’d just end up shouting again, but Marcus just shrugged.

“Can’t hurt, can it?” Marcus added, shooting Wrench a knowing look.

“Guess not…” Wrench sighed, shrugging.

“Great! Breakfast is already ready. I’ll meet you in the dining room,” she said, beaming. She turned and drifted back out of the room.

Marcus rest his hand on the punk’s lower back and pulled Wrench closer, dropping his voice. “At least it gives us time to work something out.”

“There is something in that safe,” Wrench said. “Why else would she care so much?”

“I think we just found your evidence.”

“I don’t feel good about this,” Wrench said.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Marcus replied, smiling reassuringly.

“Then breakfast it is," Wrench said, though he sighed as he led Marcus out the door. He still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. Something was going to happen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of dialogue in this one, I hope you guys liked it. ShitsabouttogodownO_O More soon!


	13. Chapter 13

Marcus slipped his hand into Wrench’s, giving it a squeeze as they stood before the dining room doors. He looked over at the silent anarchist. Wrench was tense, he ran a hand nervously through his hair, squeezing Marcus’s hand in return.

“Stupid, isn’t it?” Wrench mumbled softly, shaking his head. “Fucking fear of my own family.”

“No, it isn’t stupid, man. These people fucked with you,” Marcus replied. “But now I am here to help you. We’ll get your mask, figure out what’s in that safe, and get the fuck out of here.”

Wrench nodded slowly. “I think I needed this, though. I spent so long living in fear of them finding me and the guilt of what I thought I did.” He shook his head. “When we get out of here, I’m never looking back.”

Marcus nodded, pulling Wrench in close. “You’ve got this and I am right behind you.”

A small smile pulled at Wrench’s lips, almost unnoticeable, but Marcus saw and returned the smile. “Thanks, Marcus. Let’s go find out what she knows.” He knew having Marcus there was giving him courage. He never thought he’d end up in a relationship let alone find a friend who put up with all his shit. Reluctantly, he pulled away from his boyfriend and pushed into the dining room with Marcus, true to his word, following directly behind him.

“Reggie, I am glad you came!” Mia said brightly, smiling at her brother from the head of the table. “And your name is Marcus, right? Forgive me, I am terrible with names.”

Wrench yanked out a chair as far as he could get from his sister on the opposite end of the table and he dropped down heavily into his seat.

“Yeah,” Marcus replied, taking his seat beside Wrench.

“About this safe—” Wrench started, but Mia cut him off.

“So, tell me all about living in San Fran,” Mia said, her bright eyes on Wrench.

“I’d rather talk about that safe,” Wrench replied, scowling. “And why you lied about me killing father.”

“We can talk about the dirty stuff later. I want to catch up, Reg. It’s been a long time,” she replied, before going off on a tangent all about her own life. Wrench barely could get a word in edgewise. It was obvious they weren’t going to get any information from her.

Breakfast dragged on and it didn’t really help the knot growing in Wrench’s chest. So far they hadn’t learned anything of use. Mia mostly loved talking about herself and Wrench was keen to ignore her. It was a normal enough conversation, but he couldn’t stop the feeling something was about to happen. Mia had gotten up to fetch them drinks from across the room.

Marcus rest a reassuring hand on Wrench’s bouncing knee beneath the table causing the punk to jump at the unexpected touch, but Wrench relaxed as soon as he realised it was Marcus.

The anarchist rest his hand on top of Marcus’s, grateful for the other’s company. “Can I get my mask back now?”

“In a little bit,” Mia responded as she headed back to the table. She handed out the drinks before returning to her seat. “It’s nice talking to you again! So much has happened. I was 15 the last time I saw you.”

Marcus downed his drink. “So it is just you and your mom here?” he asked.

“Yes, and now Reggie is back,” she smiled at the punk.

“Like hell I am. I’m not staying,” Wrench said. “And you can stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name,” Mia said, her eyes shifting to Marcus.

Marcus frowned, he felt off suddenly, like the room was beginning to spin and his body was growing heavy. He swayed in his chair. “W-Wre…” he tried to speak, but he couldn’t get a word out. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“Marcus?” Wrench asked in alarm and suddenly Marcus crashed to the floor, passing out cold. “What the fuck did you do?!” Wrench shouted as he instantly flew to his boyfriend’s side, pulling Marcus into his arms. “Marcus, wake up. Fuck, Marcus.”

“Relax, he will be fine. He’s just drugged,” Mia said. “And if you want that stupid mask back, you have to do as I say.” She had pushed herself up from the table and was nearing them.

“Do as you say? Fuck you! Who the hell do you think you are?” Wrench shouted. “I’ve fucking had it! These mind games are over. I am leaving with Marcus. Keep my fucking mask. We’re leaving.”

Mia shook her head. “You left and the heat for _your_ murder fell on me. You are going to do what I say or he’s going to jail for a murder _you_ committed,” she said, smiling sweetly, but there was venom in her eyes.

Wrench clenched his jaw hard, his eyes cold. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you really want to try me? You’re the one that will have to explain to your boyfriend why he’s in jail,” she responded.

“You’ve got nothing!” Wrench said.

“Are you sure about that? You want to get into that safe awfully bad,” she replied and Wrench froze, his jaw clenching again.

He wanted to fight, to leave right then, but for Marcus’s sake, he bit his tongue. He’d had a feeling there was something important in that safe and now he knew without a doubt that there was. He had to get into that safe, but first he needed to make sure Marcus was alright.

“Get him up and follow me,” Mia said, waiting.

Wrench might be scrawny, but he had a lot more strength than he showed. He sat the other up and pulled Marcus’s arm around his shoulders while wrapping his other arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Carefully, he struggled to his feet, trying to support Marcus fully.

“The cops are trying to pin this all on me and I am not going to jail for what you did,” she replied, heading towards the door.

Wrench followed slowly after her, holding Marcus tightly against him. “You admitted earlier that I didn’t kill him and now you are blaming me again? Mom killed him,” Wrench growled out.

“No, she didn’t,” Mia replied, her back to Wrench as they moved down the hall.

He needed to find a way to get away from her, to get to that safe. Whatever was inside could be the key to freeing him from them for good. Wrench paused to pull Marcus back up against him and that’s when he felt it, Marcus’s stun gun.

“You are going to turn yourself in or Marcus is going to volunteer,” she said. They were almost to his old bedroom, but Wrench had other plans. “I am not going to jail.”

He slid his free hand between them and tugged out Marcus’s stun gun, aiming it at her back. In a split second, he pulled the trigger, but with Marcus weighing on him, he was off his mark. Luckily it caught his sister in the arm and she convulsed before falling hard to the ground, he body writhing against the wooden floor.

Wrench hesitated, watching her. He didn’t trust that she was really down, but when she didn’t move once her convulsions stopped, he quickly stuffed the gun back into his pocket and carried Marcus into the office. His heart was racing, pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. He set his boyfriend down in the chair behind the desk.

“I’ll get us out of here,” he mumbled, checking to make sure Marcus was okay before he moved quickly out the door. He wouldn’t have much time, but he needed to get in that safe before he could think about escaping.

Wrench closed the door behind him before jogging down the hall. He moved into the room that once was his and snatched his laptop and bag before heading back.

Mia was still passed out in the hall and he side stepped around her before ducking back into the office. He shut and locked the door behind him before moving further into the room. He wasn’t leaving until he knew what was in that safe, but he had no clue where to start and he had no time to do it.

Wrench paced in front of the safe, anxious. He could feel the minutes ticking by, he didn’t have time to think, but he didn’t know what to do. It was a dial combination lock so he wasn’t going to be able to hack it. He had nothing in the room to blow it up with and his beloved sledgehammer was at his garage, not that it would have done much. He needed the code.

_‘What did people usually set safes to?’_ he thought to himself, still pacing.

“Birthdays!” Wrench announced out loud, moving up to the safe. He quickly tried his father’s birthday, but that was no use and neither was his mother’s. Then he tried his sister’s, but that didn’t work either. “Fuck!” There was no way it was his, but he tried that as well. Still nothing.

In anger, Wrench sent a shelf of books crashing to the floor. How long had it been now? Was his sister awake? What was the damn combination!

He was about to knock another shelf over when he caught sight of an old newspaper amongst the wreckage of upturned books. He stooped down and picked it up. It was an article on his father’s death dated the day after the incident. Reporters never missed a second. And that was when it dawned on him.

He dropped the paper and went back to the safe. This time he entered the date of his father’s death. The lock clicked and a sense of relief washed over him. He tore it open hastily and snatched his mask back only to narrowly avoid an object that flew out with it, crashing to the ground.

Wrench had no time to react, he heard a key being inserted into the door and he needed to buy himself more time. He quickly jammed the mask back on his face, pleased to feel it once again as it recalibrated, but he didn’t stop to think about it. He grabbed a chair and quickly jammed it under the door knob, hoping it would give them a couple extra minutes.

He spun back around to go to Marcus when he saw it, the object that had fallen out of the safe. A knife that now lay on the carpet, flecks of what he could only assume were dried blood still clung to the steel.

Marcus had said his father had been stabbed and he was sure that was the knife that had done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay! Exams have kicked in full force and they are kicking my ass and my brain!  
> I hope you liked it though! This fic is almost at an end. Cannot believe I am on chapter 13, wow! Anyways, thank you so much for reading and I really hope you guys are still enjoying it!


	14. Chapter 14

“Reginald, open the door!”

The door shook as Mia struggled to get it open. The chair wouldn’t hold long, Wrench knew he had to do something fast. The legs were already slipping across the floor with every bang against the door.

“Fuck,” he swore loudly, which wasn’t exactly helpful, but it did clear his head for a moment. He ran over to his boyfriend. Somehow he had to get Marcus out of there before Mia got into the room. He could think better without having to worry.

“Marcus, man wake the fuck up,” Wrench said, shaking the other lightly, but his boyfriend was out cold and words weren’t going to do it alone. He didn’t know what he had been thinking, but the panic was raising. He needed to figure out how to wake Marcus, fast. “Fucking fuck!”

“Reggie, open the darn door!” Mia shouted again.

Wrench didn’t have much time. If the drug she had slipped Marcus had been given in Marcus’s drink, then maybe it had to have been diluted. With any luck, pain would rouse his boyfriend, so Wrench slid his hand into Marcus’s coat. He pinched and twisted the skin of Marcus’s inner forearm.

“Ow fuck!” Marcus groaned, swatting Wrench’s hand away blindly before his hand flew to his head the second he tried to move. “The fuck happened?” he mumbled, barely opening his eyes. He felt sick, his head throbbing.

“I will explain it later. We have to get out of here now,” Wrench hissed, relief washing over him, but he didn’t have time to enjoy it. He could hear sirens in the distance and knew Mia must have called the cops.

“Hey, you got your mask back,” Marcus said. He sat up, his head pounding. “What’s going on?”

“Come on,” Wrench said, helping his boyfriend to his feet. “The cops are almost here.” He moved towards the window with his bag slung over the shoulder of one arm and Marcus on the other. He paused at the window and threw it open.

The fresh air instantly assaulted Marcus’s face and it helped ease the pounding in his head. He could hear the door behind them rattling in its frame. He went to ask Wrench about it, but the anarchist was already pushing him towards the opening.

“Go,” Wrench hissed as Mia shouted his name again. “Hurry.”

Marcus hesitated for a moment, looking at Wrench with concern before the punk pushed him again. He quickly exited the window with Wrench’s support and dropped down into the grass below. He turned around to get Wrench, but the anarchist didn’t come. “Let’s go.”

“I can’t, I have to deal with this. Here take my shit,” Wrench replied, passing the bag down to his boyfriend.

“I’m not leaving without you,” Marcus replied stubbornly, but he pulled the engineer’s bag over his shoulder. “Come on.”

“Listen, wait here a second,” Wrench ducked back into the room. He looked around, desperately searching for something to pick the knife up with when he saw a box of tissues. He grabbed a handful and carefully picked the blade up with them. He didn’t want to ruin any evidence there might still be on the handle as he ran back to the window. “Take this and throw it out front. I need the cops to find it.”

“Where did this come from?” Marcus asked, carefully taking the knife offered to him. He frowned as he looked back up at the anarchist.

“Just do it, I will explain everything later.”

“What about you? Wait, is this the knife that—”

“Yes.” The anarchist looked back over his shoulder, biting his lip. “Go, get out now and meet me out front of this shithole community. You still have wheels, right?”

“Yeah,” Marcus replied, scowling.

“Great, now go. The police will be here soon. I have to finish this. I’ll meet you out front. Go, now,” Wrench said, pulling back before Marcus could argue. He retreated into the room and grabbed more tissues, proceeding to wipe the safe clean of his fingerprints.

The chair was sliding, he knew his sister would be in soon. He had just needed to make sure Marcus was safe first. He needed to face his sister one last time. If everything went well tonight, his mother or his sister would be rotting in jail. Either way, he’d finally be free of their control. He’d no longer have to hide, no longer have to look over his shoulder everywhere he went.

Suddenly the chair gave way, collapsing to the ground with a loud clatter and Mia stumbled into the room when the resistance on the door was finally released. The door crashed loudly off the wall beside her. “What the heck, Reggie!? Where did you get the t—how did you get your mask back!?” Her eyes widened and Wrench could swear he saw the colour drain from her face. Her gaze instantly shot to the safe.

“Yeah, I got into the safe, Mia, and I am done with this family,” Wrench said. “Don’t come looking for me again.”

“You say that to the police when they get here,” she replied. “You assaulted me and killed our father. Did you think I wasn’t going to call them?”

Wrench laughed, but it wasn’t with humour. It was bitter and cut short as he shook his head. “No, see, this whole time I’ve spent it thinking there was something wrong with me. I pushed people away to keep them from finding out about all this shit, but it wasn’t me. It never was. You need help, Mia, not me.”

“Where is the knife?” she demanded, not caring for anything he had to say, but he could see the panic in her eyes. “Did you touch it?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Wrench asked, it suddenly dawned on him, the hostility, the panic over the safe. “You killed him and mom was covering for you.” He shook his head.

“You don’t know anything,” Mia spat, her voice dripping with venom.

“It’s not that hard to piece together. My only question is what did he do to you?”

“Shut up!” she shouted. “I did it for you! I saw the way he beat you every day. Whatever you did always made him so mad, too mad to care about anyone else in this family.”

“Wow,” Wrench replied. “Now that is fucked up. I get beat, but you’re the one upset, starving for attention no matter what kind it is.”

“Shut the hell up! Where is the knife?”

“You’ll have to find it.”

She suddenly rushed at Wrench, but she was panicked and her movements were out of control, erratic. She was too angry and Wrench was quicker.

He ducked away from her and moved towards the window. “Cops are here. You better go get the knife then, before the cops find it.” His mask lit up, a winking face flashing at her.

“You’re lying,” she said, resting against the desk as she glared at him. “How did you—Marcus.” Her expression went flat as she suddenly realized Wrench’s boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

“You’re wasting time,” he replied, even though he knew the cops were already there. He quickly vaulted out of the window, landing easily in the grass below. He didn’t waste any time to see if she was going to chase after him. He didn’t care anymore and she wouldn’t be able to keep up for long anyway.

Wrench took off running, heading through the backyard. The cops had only just arrived, they wouldn’t be in the back yet, but he didn’t have much time. He knew they would most likely be blocking off the entrance to the gated community so his only hope was finding a place he could climb.

He sped through yards, looking for a way over the fence when he got lucky. Three houses down, there were stacks of firewood piled up against it. He ran up it, carefully, and hoisted himself up and over. Quickly, he cautiously dropped down on the other side. His ankle rolled slightly when he landed, but he pushed passed the pain and ran towards the front as fast as he could.

Marcus was waiting on the back of the motorcycle off to the side. He watched the cops surround the front gate, counting them as they drove in. His nerves were on edge. Minutes ticked by that felt like hours. He was beginning to think his boyfriend had gotten himself caught. “Come on, Wrench,” he muttered under his breath.

“Boo,” Wrench said, finally reaching his boyfriend and he laughed when the other nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Come on, man! That shits not funny,” Marcus replied, his voice hitting a higher octave. He was grabbing his chest; his heart was racing from the sudden shock. “Fuck, I was worried about your punk ass.”

Wrench moved in close, pulling his mask off. He kissed Marcus, catching his boyfriend off guard before the mask was on once again. The relief he felt being free was indescribable. “Told you I’d meet you up front. Didn’t trust me, M?”

“I was still worried. How are you? What the hell happened back there?” Marcus asked, pulling the punk into an awkward hug from his spot on the bike, but Wrench hugged him back tight before the anarchist pulled back and climbed on the back of the bike.

Wrench wrapped his arms back around Marcus’s waist. “I’m better than I have been in a long time, thanks to you. Let’s just get the fuck out of here and I will explain everything later, okay? Done with this bourgeoisie bullshit.”

Marcus snorted. “Glady,” he said as he turned the keys in the ignition. He quickly switched the bike into neutral and turned the choke twice before his thumb slipped over the start button and the bike revved to life, purring beneath him. He squeezed the gas twice, making sure the bike would stay running before he shifted out of neutral and took off down the street, careening away before the noise drew the attention of the cops.

Wrench was happy to be out of there. He felt lighter. Sure things had ended a bit messy, but he was leaving it all behind for good this time. He was finally free from his past. No one had anything to hold over his head because he hadn’t done anything wrong.

And he owed it all to Marcus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter after this guys. Lot of dialogue in this one, but I think it had to happen. Wrench is all growed up now! lol. I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

Wrench sprawled out on the bed, aimlessly flipping through the channels on the TV. It felt good to be back, though to be fair he hadn’t left Marcus’s place since they’d gotten back three days ago and Marcus had stayed by his side the entire time ordering take out so neither of them had to go anywhere. Wrench never thought he’d enjoy another person’s company as much as he did with Marcus.

“Still in bed?” Marcus asked with a grin as he walked back into the room with nothing but a towel around his waist.

Wrench sat up straight. “Why did you get up?” His unobscured blue eyes moved over Marcus.

“I needed a shower,” Marcus protested. “You could have joined me.”

“Well hurry up, get back in bed before you freeze. Quick, I’ll warm your body with mine,” Wrench said.

Marcus chuckled as he moved over towards his closet and started riffling through his clothes when warm arms slid around his waist and Wrench’s chin found its way to his shoulder. Truthfully, he was happy to hear Wrench cracking jokes again.

“Thank you,” Wrench said softly.

“For what?” Marcus replied.

“Everything. You could be with anyone you wanted and you choose to be here with me. You put up with my shit and my family. You saved me, you know?”

“Wrench, you saved yourself, man. I was unconscious, that was all you.” Marcus leaned back against the anarchist, turning his head to look at the other when he found Wrench’s lips on his in a soft kiss. He lifted a hand resting it against Wrench’s cheek.

“Stop protesting and let me thank you,” Wrench replied, a small, crooked grin pulling at his lips. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have just run away again. You did a lot more than you realise just by sticking beside me.”

“But you still freed yourself,” Marcus said.

“I think I needed to go back there,” Wrench continued. “There was a lot of shit I was still holding onto and it was finally time I let go of it all.”

Marcus smiled. It had only been a couple days, but he could tell Wrench had changed. “I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

Marcus spun around to face Wrench. “Move your ass in with me,” he responded.

“You really want me here?” Wrench asked, tensing up a little. “I mean, Josh might get lonely at the garage without me.”

Marcus laughed. “Josh is going to suffer then.”

“In that case, I think we better christen this new room then.”

“Did that last night.”

“The living room?”

“Did that yesterday too…”

“Well, shit…”

Marcus shook his head, laughing again. “Is that a yes then?”

“Yes,” Wrench replied with a grin before he kissed his boyfriend again, but just then the TV caught Wrench’s attention again and he pulled away quickly, rushing back over to see what the news was about.

_“This is WKZ TV reporting from Fremont…”_

“Holy shit…” Wrench said as he watched camera footage of his old home flash across the TV.

“What?” Marcus asked from his closet where he was pulling on a pair of pants.

“Sh sh sh,” Wrench said, sitting on the edge of the bed as the news story unfolded about his family. He turned up the volume a little, transfixed on the TV. It was a while before he spoke again.

Marcus had finished getting dressed before he moved to Wrench’s side, sitting down beside the anarchist. “What is it?”

“They arrested her,” Wrench finally said. “And my mother is on house arrest during the investigation.” Wrench turned the TV off and turned towards Marcus. “It’s officially over.” He could put the past behind him and he couldn’t deny the relief he felt that he was finally free of his family for good this time. No more looking over his shoulder. No more guilt for the things he thought he had done.

Marcus grinned. “I think we should go out and celebrate. What’s better than beer with good friends?”

“You,” Wrench replied, closing the distance between them as he pressed his lips to Marcus’s just as Marcus’s phone went off, flooded with text messages, and he pulled back with a frustrated sigh which caused Marcus to chuckle.

“It’s probably Sitara,” Marcus said, getting up to retrieve his phone. “Yup, she called earlier too. To be fair, it’s been a while since either of us have been to the hackerspace and given that she knew why I had to—”

Wrench scowled. “You told her?” he responded, cutting Marcus off.

“Barely, just… I needed help finding you. I didn’t tell her anything other than your sister’s name so we could track you down,” Marcus replied. “And that it was an emergency.”

Wrench sighed and put his mask back on as he stood. “Fine, we better get this over with then.”

“Wrench, I’m sorry, man. I just—”

“I would have done the same thing to find you,” Wrench replied. “But my family are nothing but the ghosts of a part of me that’s dead now. I recreated myself and now I am officially free of all that bullshit. Come on, let’s go celebrate.” Carets lit up his mask as Marcus grinned at him. It was true and he felt so much lighter. He threw his arm around Marcus’s shoulders as they left the apartment together.

 

***

 

Wrench’s nerves stirred when they reached the space. He wasn’t sure how Sitara was going to react or even who knew about his past. It was something he’d tried to keep hidden for so long and now it was out in the open and all over the TV. Even if the news hadn’t mentioned him, it was still his family plastered there for the world to see.

“Are you coming?” Marcus asked, holding the door open for Wrench.

“What? Right,” Wrench said, startled out of his thoughts. He shook them off and moved down the stairs. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. It was better just to rip the band aid off and get it over with than stand around and dwell on it.

“Wrench!”

Wrench was not prepared for the arms that flew around him as Sitara moved towards him, hugging him tight and for a moment Wrench froze, too startled to move. He never expected her, of all people, to hug him, but she was and he relaxed, hugging her back.

She pulled back. “Don’t worry me like that again, asshole.”

Wrench laughed, his mask changing to carets. It was then he knew he was home. This was his family, his _real_ family. “I couldn’t leave you, who’d annoy you as good as me?”

“That is true, it’s too quiet around here without our violent irritating pervert,” Sitara said, with a grin as she turned away and headed over to check on Marcus.

Wrench grinned beneath his mask as he moved back over towards his work bench. He turned, watching as Sitara and Marcus talked. He really did feel much better.

“Wrench, you’re back,” Josh said and Wrench turned to greet him. “Sitara, said you had personal problems to deal with.”

The anarchist nodded. “All taken care of now. Did you miss me Josh?” His mask flashed two carets as he stretched his arms out for a hug. “Come on, get in here!”

“No thanks,” Josh replied, already heading back to his computer. “But I am glad you’re back.”

Wrench grinned beneath his mask and leaned back against his work bench. It was definitely good to be back. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking around. He was even glad to see Ray, although he would never admit that out loud. He was home. These people, they were his family. His true family. They might have their disagreements at times, but they all came together when it mattered and he felt welcome there. He was definitely home and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy.

Marcus came over. “Sitara wants to head out for karaoke. Are you coming?”

“Fuck yes, I am,” the anarchist stood, throwing an arm around Marcus. “Drinks are on me this time.”

“Hacking our tab isn’t paying, Wrench,” Sitara added, headed for the stairs with Josh in tow.

“Hey, you’ve never complained before!” Wrench replied.

 “That’s because Marcus always pays,” Josh replied.

“Traitor!” Wrench announced loudly and Marcus laughed.

“It’s good to have you back, Wrench,” Marcus said as they moved up the stairs together.

“It’s good to be home,” Wrench replied, and he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am both torn between not believing it lasted this long and not believing it's over. Feels like I just started! But don't worry, I have much more planned! And if you have suggestions feel free to add me on Tumblr, monochromenyghtmare. Thank you so much for reading guys, I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! New chapter fic! More serious this time. I hope you like it, let me know if you want more. Thanks for reading! The rating will change in later chapters.
> 
> -AN


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